Boy Least Likely To I Box Up All The Butterflies
I find it difficult to
Relax in the summertime
With all the flowers in bloom
I creep across the countryside
With my net and my bait
And a pocketful of bailer twine
I break the promises I made
As I box up all the butterflies
I ruin
Everything
As I sit in a field of grass
In the spring
Listening
To the beat of its little heart
And to its wings
Struggling
For air under an upturned glass
And I put a pin
Through its wings
And I bottle it up,
I box it up,
And bury it in my heart
Just as I know my friends
I also know my enemies
Are the birds and the bees
And my own little insecurities
I creep around in the dark
And I tear up all the dandelions
And I break my own heart
As I box up all the butterflies
Tirelessly,
Following
Its tiny butterfly tracks
Across the field in the spring
With a plastic carrier bag
Full of fish,
Hooks, and string
I lay a little matchbox trap
And I put pin
Through its wings
And I bottle it up,
I box it up
And bury it in my heart
I folded up its furry wings
And opened up its little heart
It might sound stupid
But something about it made me want to pull it apart
I ruin
Everything
As I sit in a field of grass
In the spring
Listening
To the beat of its little heart
And to its wings
Struggling
For air under an upturned glass
And I put a pin through its wing
And I bottle it up,
I box it up,
And bury it in my heart.
