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| Picture found on google images Poem by me |
I once learned of a butterfly
that flies one thousand miles
only to meet one mate
and then die.
They flutter around sorta
like the ones in my tummy
do except unlike butterflies
I cry.
What happens when one butterfly
finds the other broken?
It can't cry or attack
in a mad rage.
The butterfly gets over it
and flies away only to die
very soon in its
butterfly cage.
And now whenever I see
a broken butterfly I
pick it up and let just
one tear fall slow
I think of you and what
I lost because you could never
be like a butterfly
so I let you go.
And now I'm glad I did.
I wish I didn't know exactly what you mean by this. People complain about never finding anyone to love... to love them. They're lucky. Love results in nothing but hurt and disappoint... and eventually a broken heart. Every time. No exceptions. Yet, no one understands this.
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