The Delicate Self

Fluttering butterflies, felt so fine

Crocheting delicate emotions, in a line

But then, the wind blew oh so hard,

Killed all the butterflies, flipped the cards,

It Felt, That deep, never felt before,

That was pointed, it ripped the soul,

I waited for every second,

To get what I yearned for,

Prayed with all my heart,

Sobbed for all those scars,

Just then,

The thought crossed my mind,

That may be once, we felt the same,

But I am the only one to blame,

I was the coward, not so blunt,

So I suffered, cried and learned,

That punching fact about infatuation,

It makes you firm, bless you with Dalmatian,

They yearned for words, I never said,

Wish they could hear, what silence bled,

They walked pass by,

Oh, I was nonexistent, sigh!

I realized, I was broken and chaotic,

A devastated mess, and quixotic.

With swollen eyes,

I cried a river,

Collected my sighs, and those tears,

Enclosed them in the gourd,

With all the might,

I finally,

Pulled out, the Panic Cord!