Arrival Of Butterflies

Spring had come and showered it's love, for creatures like us. For us to bloom with happiness and idyllic. For us to feel the aroma in the breeze. It brings a happy harvest of flowers, that finally bloom after a period of harsh cold. It's a period of the year, when the air is mingled with butterflies, leaping from one blossom to another and satisfying their thirst. The spring marked the beginning of my tragedies, my rebellious nature and the arrival of petite butterflies.

Butterflies are to me, the personified version of the man I love. They have no reason to love, except for beauty, and sweet nectar. These creatures appear to be the most prettiest, are greedy. They do not understand what love is, they do not understand what care is. They do understand what a flower is, but they do not understand it's meaning.

Paper is pretty, prettier are the words,

My darling is prettier, prettier than the stars.

Blue is the ocean, blue is sapphire,

His eyes are bluer, prettier than butterflies.

Red roses to greet him are pretty,

But stand no chance against his lips.

Red hue is prettier, prettier with his lips aligned.

My darling is prettier, prettier than anyone alive.

Something like this, a song, I sang before. The sight still pieced my heart like dagger. The flower was ruined of love, devoid of attention. Killed by my own deity, my fate had forsaken to overthrow me into the hands of despair. Yet life lies within me. Butterflies as lovely, nothing goes against the saying, but flowers are the kindest, they perfume the hands that crushed them. But, dark black, rooted spirit of vengeance, seeks you. The flowers are the kindest yet still in giving the most beloved death.

Shallot runs down the stairs, not caring of ruining her newly created dress. The ballroom was flushed with people, yet she found her way out. Her hands clutching on to the piece of poetry, she wrote while she longed for the presence of her lover who had gone away to some foreign land.

She could not withstand her merriness and did giggle on her way to the fountain like a toddler. But soon turned into a disaster as she saw the view infront of her. The man whom she had devoted herself to, was devoted in nourishing someone else's lips. Her lips parted in shock as her eyes remain fixed onto him shameful kissing another woman infront of her.

The paper was crushed under her palm as she turns her back and left. Tears are only shed when it's despair, not malice. She tears her pendant which he gifted her before leaving and throws it on the floor allowing passersby to crush it with their ego.

Sitting in her carriage hurriedly, she rushed to her mansion. On her way, she kept staring at her diary, upon which was written his name. In the heat of her anger, she tore down it into pieces like a madman as she wept tears of betrayal.

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