My lungs,
quiet and previously full of
cocoons,
are now trapped within their own
butterfly bushes
as I am
trapped within
you, the warden
to my stars;
alive, but now very much so,
everything I deserve to be feeling, you know?
YOU ARE READING
PERCHED PARCHED BUTTERFLY
PoetryYour voice is the paint I take to the sky, splattering it all over, so they can all know you're nigh.
