remember the butterflies?

remember those butterflies i told you about?

remember how i was driving home and felt the cage open and the butterflies were set free by the thousands?

well let me tell you about those butterflies.

i went to your house. i saw that the lights were all off and i saw your car in the driveway.
i knew you wouldn't want to talk so i decided to write you a note saying how i hope you have a great day at school tomorrow and put it under your windshield whipper.

walking back to back to my car was horrid.

it felt like someone dumped a bucket of water into my stomach and all the thousands of glorious butterflies that i had felt just a day before, were drowning fast.

I could feel their frantic fluttering wings trying to get the heavy water off so they could fly again.

but it didn't work. all the butterflies were gone instantly.

they all lie at the bottom of my stomach, waiting to be picked up and pinned. to be framed for the museum visitors to awe at their spectacular wings.

they wouldn't have drowned if you had done something though.

if you would have told me to stay and wait for you.

if you would have walked me to my car.

if you would have given me one of your wonderful hugs...

... instead of barely acknowledging the sacrifices i had to make to come see you.

....instead of barely acknowledging that i was even there.

the butterflies sunk because they knew what was coming next.

they knew that you wouldn't say anything about the note on your car.

they knew that if i stopped trying, then this... whatever it is that we have... would stop too.

like it did last time- when i didn't say anything, so you didn't either and we didn't talk for a week.

they knew that it was about to all end.

once i finally got in the car and drove away with all the fallen and broken butterflies inside, a song came on the radio that reminded me of you.

"say something i'm giving up on you"

the words were too tender. too close to home and i couldn't hold it in anymore.

my heart started sweating out of my eyes because like the frantic fluttering butterflies my heart was in a panic.

the world outside became a blur, except the lights. they shone.

why did you hurt my butterflies?

why are they not worth your time?

why didn't you make them feel important?

why didn't you fight for them?

why didn't you DO anything?

why did you pour the water?

you could have saved my beloved butterflies...

but you didn't.

and every now and then you say something and i start to feel a single butterfly slowly flapping her wings...

shaking off the heavy water, preparing to take flight.

but i have to remind her to stop,

because you're just going to pour water on her again.