Butterfly Whispers

There’s a gaping hole in my body. Like the crevice that cracked in the ocean resulting in tsunami. The lives it’s afflicted have rippled out and crashed down upon reluctant victims. It’s evident when I stand stark naked, fluid in the center of my body. A dark abyss that echoed the skeletons I’ve longed to hide and scream in my dreams at night. I’ve tried to fill it with multiple things and all only last long enough to erupt. Seeping hot magma down my sides burning up everything built with poor infrastructure. Music made a long distracting appearance. Dancing in my veins and drying my tears, exploiting my love and battling my fears. Describing every element of memorabilia I owned. But the notes were never enough to provide me guts to patch what I should have long ago. And the little voice whispers “you are your own.” the secret it kept and spoke in the language of butterflies was foreign and obvious, like a smile. But my fingers grazed it like the wind but could never feel its warmth, its texture. So I sat and I wondered, throwing anything I could into my hole, just to see that it was full. But it sank and absorb contents into its sand, reminding me that I’m human. That what I needed to build was my own. Only I could fill it with my needs. And another whisper ” you are what you need”. And the butterfly voice that spoke was always just… Me.