melancolía

no one hears it but me
faint knocks and thumps
on the walls of my ribs

what is it ? how did i get this ?
could it be anxiousness or my mind playing tricks ?
could it be a creature ? wiggling about ?
no it can’t be that. i doubt

these butterflies in my stomach are unpleasant.
yet i can’t seem to stop romanticizing them
are they pieris rapae or cabbage whites ?
whatever they are they give me fright.

then they burst out suddenly and forcefully
instead of beautiful pure butterflies i had
dull and wicked , rotten moths
i admire their beauty
despite the pain in my ribs i reach out touch them
i look down my beautiful moths speckled with red yet pure as snow
my soft beating heart with nibbles on its side
do you feel them too ? i doubt i will ever know

i miss the thumps of my trapped moths