no more killing butterflies

my poetry (e.f.) book in progress one day I will be a famous poet :)

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

I need to know why

curiosity killed the cat but I need to know why. that summer around midnight. obviously I should have seen it coming but I didn’t, not before it cut to the bone, not before I found the skeleton of the little girl lying in my old closet, right underneath the shirt I wore when no one was watching, buried under a heap of long forgotten memories that will never fill those curious eyes with joy again. I am certain that she would’ve been the one to save me. maybe then, the shadow in see in every mirror I look at wouldn't exist. I never needed anyone but myself but now, I figured, it’s too late.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

how to get away with murder

I lay down in the mud, asking for redemption, digging up my own skeleton to prove I am still breathing, all corpses crawl to the surface sometime and I’m piling up the dirt, they will never beat me, I will be long gone, I will keep running. I know I’m constantly breathing through things that are bruising me and I am familiar with living in exhaustion. callousness doesn’t scare me anymore, my eyes still soften at the sight of sunsets, I am not leaving the killing ground [not yet], it’s not rocket science to get away with murder, especially when it’s your own.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

i‘d be violet if they just said the right words. blue for everyone if they held me the right way. I will never allow myself to heal because perfection ruins everything good, and I’ve always wanted to be exemplary. I drown myself just so that nobody else will be able to do so. and I never figured out how to breathe without air. but I won’t stop pretending. I will become red for anyone who shows me attention and eventually be burned by my own flames, but I won’t tell them how much it hurts. how lonely I really am.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

I have always been terribly terrified of forgetting. it’s almost as everything I can’t remember doesn’t count. I want souvenirs of the good times as well as the ones that break me beyond repair. I want everything to leave marks, just to prove I was there. I was alive once, and I’m missing my mother’s light and the sea breeze on my skin, the whispering of the ocean and the taste of happiness on my skin. I miss the sand between my toes and my brother’s laugh. oh god, I miss the waves. the waves that pushed me back to shore back then, no matter what.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

time is space between grieving and happiness and the clock ticking means you’re healing, doesn’t it? maybe you will ignite yourself just for others to feel the heat. you will burn out long before they will notice and your ashes will disappear without making any sound. maybe the sea will call your name again, almost as if to say not yet my dear, there's so much more. maybe then you will finally stop volunteering for swan-diving down the rabbit hole into the aching depths of your existence. you survived everything that’s happened and whatever tried to kill you failed. so be proud of yourself instead of regretting the alleys you once wandered to kill your sadness. time will pass either way.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

this is it? is this what growing up is all about? we pass joy around in a bottle of cheap wine for one last time. I know, everyone is constantly changing and the earth is spinning and eventually everything happens just like it’s supposed to. but if my car were to crash on my way back to the city I call my new home, I wouldn’t be angry. my mom buys herself flowers now and I think that’s a good thing. she also keeps my scissors in a different shelf. and the tree in our backyard is gone. you never know when it’s the last time. is growing up nothing more than feeling younger than you are and leaving all the things you love so dearly behind?

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

we found love in a hopeless place

love-drunk in colourful lights, surrounded by strangers but I only saw you. you were dancing with me and I can remember how all I wanted was for you to kiss me. I wanted to make a home out of you, my head to rest on your shoulder, forehead kisses, dinner dates, someone to love me despite of everything, your hands around my waist. slow dancing in the kitchen at midnight, fireworks, to never be left alone, a big house with blue shutters, a garden filled with love and flowers.

kissing you felt like walking into the sun for the first time and I haven’t been the same since.

-e.f.

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

the year we became fourteen our whole life changed. somehow the sky became dull and tiresome. both of us were drowning and none of us knew how to save each other. and love was mostly war. falling meant a ache within the chest, so radiant we would forget how to breathe. we both were suffocating, but at least we were doing it together.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

I don’t want to grow up.

I am seven years old, picking strawberries in my grandfather’s garden. look at me mum, I’m picking cherries right from the tree! the sun is shining on my face and I have cherry stains all over my dress. my best friend is trying to catch me but I’m way to fast. we’re laughing so hard that our bellies begin to ache. I’m smiling at my dad with my two missing front teeth. the sky is blue and my hands are sticky from all the cherries and strawberries. I’m as happy as one can be. I wonder why adults don’t laugh until their bellies hurt. they always look so sad. almost like they are constantly missing something. summer lasts for ever. I don’t want to grow up.

-e.f.

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

my dependence will be the death of me, but even worse, my pride. I would rather drown than ask someone to teach me how to keep my head above the surface.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

I was forced out of my childhood and I try to everything to remember, but I can never quite get a hold of it.

it’s always just out of reach,

like the forbidden candy on the shelf.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

oranges

the oranges were not ripe enough for us to eat. maybe in another life the sun will shine down on us together and gently sprinkle our cheeks in freckles and roses. we deserve a happy ending, don’t you think?

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

my mother carries pain under her sleeve like a bracelet and all I desire is to walk up to her, to gently take her hand and steal the sorrow from under her eyes without her noticing. I am quiet in my agony and I think I got it from her.

I am as well reaching out to busy people and leaning against moving things, jumping blindfolded into any river. and sometimes I believe we have more in common than I would like to admit. We both go to great lengths to find the perfect reason to break our own hearts. stars and scars are not the only things we share, both of us would always chase freedom, even if it meant nothing but loneliness and silence of the rest of our lives. we would do everything to go unnoticed, our footsteps would be so quiet, they would never hear us leave.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

I would love to be soft but I have been fighting all my life. can you see the walls I build? no one is ever going to be able to take them down. I have my own empire now. no one (but you) could ever defeat me.

-e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

letter to my younger self

I hope 8 year old me is proud of who I am today. I hope she laughs until her belly hurts when she listens to the story’s I would tell her. we are finally happy now, can you believe that? mom still smiles like she always used to do. please never give up. it will get better. keep on moving. you don’t know what’s going to happen yet, but I am proud of you. for living. for living despite of it all. and especially for not loosing your smile. laugh when you fail, you don’t have to be perfect all the time. never say sorry for being yourself. your feelings are valid, don’t hide them. talk about what happened. about everything. they will believe you. there is nothing wrong with your body. I love you. fooling yourself into thinking it never happened is the most effective way to never get over it. so speak. choose to speak as loud and as much as you can. you will be okay again. someday.

- e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

we all attend parties and dance and drink and some of us are dying inside but they try their best to never let it show. I tell you that I wouldn’t mind if I died and you start laughing but I wasn’t joking. you tell me how you could kill me any minute. shoot me then. we both start laughing because people don’t like to talk about death and specifically they hate talking about people killing themselves. we know we carry too much weight. but nobody wants to dance with people who could break down any minute. so we will say that we’re joking and how great it feels to be alive and we will go to party’s and dance with strangers who will forget about us in the morning.

- e.f

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

you carved your name into my collarbones while I was telling the world how tender you were, how gentle you loved me. I was calling you soft and mistook your violence for love. but at least we made each other feel something. we made each other feel alive and we looked into each other’s eyes, wondering what they would look like if we had really been in love with each other.

- e.f