Box Of Butterflies

The thorn on the rose was too sharp.
It cut through us and tore me apart.
It took away who we were,
left me alone bruised and scarred.

You can see it all up my arm,
your name engraved, paved
into my skin.
Worse than a tattoo
as past is irremovable.

I remember the last day with you.
It was painful but so beautiful
because I saw your smile for the last time,
before it stopped being mine.

Then from your face it disappeared
but every time I shut my eyelids it reappears.
Your soft voice tormenting me,
whispering my name in the cold breeze,
your loving and tender touch,
making me weak at the knees.

Butterflies were a myth until you came along.
I never had a feeling so powerful and strong
Now they’re suffocating alone in a box.

But for how long?

– Taken from Oceans Of Ink

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