That feeling is back
The one I purged
By loving and letting him in.
Sharing, caring and daring
Not in the Primetime sense.
No needles shared, no hospital care and
definitely no sky diving to a new life.
But in my sterile Bell Jar world
He was that infectious spring
A breathtaking change to grim.
This flux made me forget-
Scorching summers follow sprightly springs.
And in me rose again
that feeling of dread,
Of weight, of disquiet
like a dust storm from hell.
Like a cannibal butterfly
Born in your chest,
In little mouthfuls, eat it will
Till tickling wings your skin feels
I have everything I want in life
Still no respite the butterfly gives
In birthdays and movies
And road trips and shopping sprees
My stomach becomes a butterfly park.
I wish it would come out
That feeling-deep and endless
Through my mouth and hands
Bleeding in brilliant colours
What my words fail to express.