my butterflies

so I said

I'm not doing okay, no
I'm not doing okay at all

And he said,

Well why?

And I told him about the butterflies

My arm is a meadow, and 9 butterflies roam

And my arm, hip and thigh are all the butterflies' homes

And sometimes in these homes, there comes a blade

So these butterflies stride into the rain and wash away

Then the marks of this blade leave dark reminders

Of how messed up I actually am

And I cried

The next thing I know

A picture comes my way

Of a butterfly on his wrist and a smile on his face

And was I slightly uncomfortable, yes I was

But it made me smile, too

And no, he is not my boyfriend

My boyfriend doesn't know

But that night I feel asleep

With some happy and some glow

And when they come back to haunt me

The butterflies fly away

But they haven't flown away just yet

Not even till this day