Love starts with drops of honey-nectar,
Spilling from heated cheeks
To feed the butterflies
Fluttering inside my chest.
Slowly, nectar turns to morning mist,
Beat into hurricanes by butterfly wings
Swirling, twirling, a nauseating dance
Settling inside my belly.
Mist begins to morph into an icy wind,
Blown into my nervous system
Fibers brittle to the point of breaking
Freezing blood and bone marrow.
Ice melts into briny rivers
Running down your cheeks and
Dripping down to drown the butterflies
That once fluttered in my chest.
the Honest Poet 