I write an incomplete poem
when I think of you.
the sudden echo of your laugh
flows through my body
I inevitable submit
to the tiny butterflies in me

Broken memories play
a whisper
a smile
tiny conversations about nothing,
about everything,
again the tiny butterflies appear

But it is always an incomplete poem,
I can't finish it
your smile stops
your last cold words sink in
I stop to write once again
the tiny butterflies suddenly
die

A human being trying to heal and found her own voice. A self-love journey.

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