Direction: Butterflies in My Stomach

poetry.

black-and-yellow-butterfly-on-yellow-flower

I promise I try. I promise I give, and naively use magnifying glasses to look for the good, like Battleship game map searches. I  X  out general flaws because I want to be right.

Pure in spirit, a heart pinker than flamingo feathers—a cotton candy melted by pleasant tones and gestures. Moments that remind

That eyes bear: pregnant with tears.

Caterpillars have camped out a month of Sundays in my stomach as I know my potential,

but i get nervous.

Six-prong fork with me at the center

left,

northwest,

diagonal left,

south, diagonal right, and south east.

But you know, with certainty, I attest the Butterflies will at best carry me towards… where I will be Blessed.