Your eyes meet mine in a one million-chanced second, and I feel like I can float.
You look away, of course, but the swarm of butterflies in my stomach stay, and don't go away.
I can't release them.
They swarm in me, pollinating flowers and life within me that prospers within a lonely heart.
A heart that beats for you.
Tulips and Lilies and Roses and Daises, all these things reside within the owner of a crush that will never come true.
A tulip, a tulip for you.
You talk to me, and bees appear inside me. They flutter around, growing more life along side the butterflies.
I can't release them.
And I don't mind.
You brush against me, walking in another direction, and ants swarm from where your shoulder met mine. They bring an ecosystem, one thriving inside my heart.
A falcon, a falcon for you.
We share a kiss for the first time, one that lifts me off my feet. The animals in my heart all stop their scavenging and hunting at the same time and stare at you, at the new heart opening before them.
You released them.
Into your heart.
They notice the cobwebs and the musty air and acidic soil and they wander in, willing to replace the desolate water and soil and air.
A herd, a pack, a flock. All for you.
It doesn't last though, nothing lasts. This was gold, and nothing gold can stay alive. The bridge between our hearts cracks, and, from your side, they fall into the deep and never ending canyon separating them.
You took my gifts.
You never repayed.
My animals, in your heart, begin to die off. The inhabitants of your heart kill them with spears and swords and guns, and they are helpless.
Death, death for you.
