Oh the butterflies, they’ve never left.
That fleeting feeling of their flight
Felt in my every fluttery breath.
You do still feel it, right?
With our thoughts alight,
Wondering if it was worth it to write
All those things I said to you that night.
Tell me, can you hear my heart’s plight?
My heart is still rapidly beating,
To the rhythm of their wing flaps.
When I was dreaming of our meeting,
I wanted your heart, too, to race laps.
If I were able to say what was on my mind,
I would make you the most flattered person on earth.
Not a better love you could find than mine,
No other love could even begin to compare their worth.
But how does our love compare to a butterfly?
Whose wings are as delicate and fragile since it began,
That which is just as doomed to die,
As long as the emperor’s average lifespan,
Or perhaps a monarch’s, but how could anyone plan
To cut short something so beautiful, so why try?
I try because I thought you would be worth the chance,
Because nothing was ever accomplished without trying,
But for the short time our love, along the petals, danced,
And I didn’t want to stay a pupa without the joy of flying.
By far the most insulting thing, of course,
Is to abuse a friend in my presence.
And how can you in good conscience,
Say as such when it’s also a friend of yours?
You go to such lengths to make us miserable.
I’m appalled that you would even try,
When you could just as easily lie,
Without saying anything stupid at all!
How can you justify the damage you cause,
Adding layer after layer of insult without pause,
When the impact is so clearly visible,
And you try to pretend it’s not irremissible?
And what more will you bring down with your words?
The way they’re weaponized as merely a means to an end,
When you don’t even understand the meaning behind them.
And yet somehow, it’s an unintended consequence of yours.
The grimace of discomfort is not enough to let you know?
Or perhaps a more emphatic approach is necessary,
Even the most subtle insult would at most seem ordinary,
When you put little to no thought into the feelings you show.
Why do you say what you say?
For merely the sake of conversation?
Your words exit your mouth,
But not enough to exceed escape velocity.
The gravity of meaning causes them to come crashing down,
And yet you’re surprised by the size of the crater at the end of the collision…
You treat my love like a rag.
Tossed to the side, your hands dried of me.
In the dimly lit corner of your memory,
I waste away. The odor of stagnant air
With mildew is how you remember.
There’s only so much I can absorb
Before my patience runs thin.
You may think you can use me again,
But these delicate fibers have become worn
Distressed to the point of being torn.
Perhaps it’s the thought of discarding someone
That gives that soured look of disgust of yours,
And yet you have the nerve to dispose of those
Wretched feelings and pretend to be ignorant.
Why should you have to sully your hands
With the rubbish from when you didn’t give a damn?
My happiness is wrung dry and yet sopping wet,
Overflowing with sorrow, I hope to borrow
That trait of yours where you toss into the bin
Any sense of accountability and even then,
It is a hopeless endeavor to polish the past
With a ragged love that was never meant to last.
If my life was as easy as a questionnaire,
I wouldn’t be spending my time looking for the answers.
Would it not be too simple being spoonfed these answers?
Now, if I were to simply give all my the answers away,
Then there’s no fun or challenge, right?
But sometimes I don’t even know what questions to ask myself.
So what makes you think I’ll have an answer to anything you say?
Who honestly wants to be interrogated?
Then, as soon as I give you an answer,
You instantly have an opinion on what I said.
Why must you challenge any of my answers?
You’re the one who asked!
Honestly, please let my answers lie.
Because if it’s truth you’re looking for,
Then I can’t be the only one putting thought into the conversation.
Lest you might somehow overthink what I say.
Why do I answer at all, what do you have to gain?
Here I am asking questions, when all you wanted was to learn,
and I just wanted to be taken at face value some of the time,
but I’m being constantly derided for answering the way I do.
And if you wanted me to just shut up-
Fine, but think about this for a moment.
I answer these questions because you’re so curious,
But you can’t even answer mine!
Now, that doesn’t seem fair.
Is it really a conversation if only one side asks the questions?
And listen close to all the answers you didn’t want to hear:
I was not put on the earth to smile for you.
I am not your puppet, nor your doll.
I don’t want your hands on me.
I have no shame and much less left for you.
Don’t use the illness of your head to imprison me
I will not be a hostage, a prisoner to your will.
Don’t tell me I was the best you’ve ever had,
It’s obvious I was, but I was the one smart enough
To escape the hopeless situation I was in.
There will be nothing calm about my talk
When the pain in my calves I wish was cut in half.
Chalk it up to bad timing for my walk,
My legs balk at the thought of taking anymore steps,
But I would gladly do so in order to walk out of this
Photo by Kayla