ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝕯ead ℬutterflies
✦✧. I sometimes think about the fragility of glass of broken shards tearing against soft skin. When it truth, it is the transparency that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.
ㅤㅤㅤFor years i've kept you in secret, behind a glass screen. I've watched helplessly as day after day, your new girlfriend becomes your wife and then later, the mother of your children. Then realising the irony in thinking you were the one under glass when in fact has been me, a pinned butterfly static and unmoving, watching while your other life unfolds.
✦✧. I sometimes think about the fragility of glass of broken shards tearing against soft skin. When it truth, it is the transparency that kills you. The pain of seeing through to something you can never quite touch.
ㅤㅤㅤFor years i've kept you in secret, behind a glass screen. I've watched helplessly as day after day, your new girlfriend becomes your wife and then later, the mother of your children. Then realising the irony in thinking you were the one under glass when in fact has been me, a pinned butterfly static and unmoving, watching while your other life unfolds.