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Butterflies
There are supposed to be butterflies
In your stomach, little bright bursts
Of all the colors of the rainbow
All the colors you can dream
And roses, that smell so sweet
The same deep, dark red
Of the blood pumping too quickly
Through your near-to-bursting heart
Delirious rapture
Fills your mind
Overtakes your senses
No room for reality
Seeps into your lungs
Intoxicates the air
Contaminates
Blissfully unaware
You're dying
Suffocating
Break through the barriers of fantasy
Know what the hope in your heart cannot accept
Let yourself fall victim
Wait
To the very end
When all that's left
Are the thorns of a long-wilted rose
And lifeless, faded
Butterflies
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