Butterflies That Sometimes Bleed Blue
Butterflies that sometimes bleed blue
Love,
is a butterfly that bleeds blue sometimes.
By that I mean love is like the endless skies at night,
vast,
like the stars they give memories to this ocean of black.
Speak to the body,
because it is the bed that keeps you warm.
A man's love,
the pillows that made king Solomon sing songs,
of love.
A love,
that made you want more than this that you have now.
You wrote in red,
a red that reminds you of your blood that flows through you,
the bearer of a loving heart.
Every red that you see reminds you of the butterflies you feel inside each time your lovers scent wakes you,
at night in bed.
You thought the river between would keep you apart,
but they crossed it,
and swallowed that too to give you something full,
to hold at night when the ghosts you hold back paint your mind with hate.
Like you didn't deserve this,
like your past are the building layers to the barricade that encloses your red.
Your sun,
in an ocean of blue will never make sense,
though it is clear as day.
The butterflies will still fly,
and you will grasp on to the chance that they do not bleed blue.
I hope this time,
that this turns out to be true, because sometimes they don't,
but most times,
they really do.
11/10/18
Copyright © Chisala Kataya | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment