Butterflies are always unexpected.

But does it matter?

Butterflies, the love the hate;

Butterflies, the excruciating pain.

Butterflies the colorful rain

Of feelings floating in the air.

Butterflies sometimes unfair,

Seldom the going to heaven stair.

When they attack two pairs of eyes that meet,

Beautiful butterflies two worlds they lit.

Butterflies the eternity with end.

B. Meza (c)March 2015


About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Thoughts about life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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