His love.

Something short and sweet, I wrote:)

I was in loved with him, and I loved him like firebombs in the city. Hot and fiery passion that you could see from miles away. From far away a beautiful marvel, the closer you got the more chaos appeared. Leaving nothing but destruction behind.

His love was like having butterflies in your stomach that turned into poisonous moths. Not all at once either. Slowly, painstaking, one at a time. Each butterfly in more agony than the last, and causing even more suffering than before. And you have to bear witness to it all. Tormenting you, watching each one bat their wings one last time as a butterfly, and their first ones as a poisonous moth. As much as I loved the butterflies, I couldn’t bear to watch them turn….

Thanks for reading,


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