Chapter three
I have not written with butterflies,
Not yet painted with the color of their wings
Not with their flow,
Or their grace when flying
I have not written with tigers,
Not with their sharp stripes
Or their vibrant oranges
Not with their fierce some growl,
Or their little wise choices
And I have not written with you
Haven't embossed your fragrance in a golden wall,
As if I could.
I haven't carved your initial in a tree,
Or in a necklace around my neck
But my stomach will always be painted by the colors of the butterflies you gave me
My mind in neon oranges and pinks, confused wether it's the beginning or end
No, I have not written with butterflies or tigers, or you.
But they told me how. You did.
-nez
YOU ARE READING
Soft-spoken
Poetry" Poetry, dedicated to the fallen lovers, the broken friendships, and letters I could not send to someone. Poetry dedicated to you, dedicated to the aching hearts and the healing ones. Poetry for those who has their minds embellished with the thoug...
