Butterflies Come Back To Me Poem by Leah Ayliffe

He told me the butterflies flew away.
I sat on my bed and it was like the toxic fumes that swirled inside my lungs escaped.
The ghost that was keeping me insane evaporated and I was free.
He wasn't going to fall in love with me.
Isn't it strange how the prospect of dreams coming true
Can tie your hands behind your back and make you lose control?
I had been suffocating in dimensions that were never to be lived.
He brought a fantasy down from the starry skies and into the sphere of reality.
I could not handle wavering between the lines of real and fake.
I was not ready to change, and so I quaked with self-destruction.
Who was that girl so worried about his intentions of falling in love?
Why did I cry and die inside waiting to be told he changed his own mind?
Surely not me, not the girl who thrived on being alone and free.
Stranger to myself.
Lost under the turmoil of potential - of everything happening as they do in dreams.
Movie magic.
Hush my darling mind, catastrophic thoughts, hush.
You are no longer blind.
Wildflowers growing through the dark matter inside that heart of mine.
They returned to their natural state after the numbing attempt to be manicured to perfection.
Wildflowers.
Wild fire.
Just the same as they spread at a fast pace.
When the butterflies flew away, they returned back to me.
All the terrible things that attached themselves to a love I had,
A love that still is light and kind,
Have dissipated.
Gone with the ghost of dreams coming true, I am back to living free.
I control my love, love does not control me.
A walk in the city snowfall captures the immensity and power in being happily alone.
He is my most treasured accomplice in this wild world.
He is the best person I have ever stumbled across, I am very much made the wiser and assured.
Trust and doubt do not belong in the same room.
I trust and believe his intentions for me are pure.
We will be like those majestic trees I have mentioned before.
Rooted together underground, but strong in their own independent form.
That's my idea of real. And he is my idea of fun.
I just want to get away and have fun.
Places to go, people to meet, the world is not so serious.
I am back.
I am free.
Butterflies, thank you for coming back to me!