Butterflies

A short poem about "butterfies in your stomache."

I think the little butterflies
have begun to open eyes
And realize that my gut no longer suits them

They have fluttered to my fingers
Where each new sensation lingers
and there's quite a many things I haven't felt.

They have landed on my toes
And even when the clubs have closed.
I keep dancing 'till the rhythm starts to hurt

And they're biting at my lips
Where that empty word still drips
That I say to people I have never known

And I really hate this feeling
That a kiss is worth the stealing
Why do butteflies bug flowers not yet bloomed?