"butterfly?" I whispered.

"yeah?" he replied.

"don't you ever leave me again.

and don't you ever mention my scars."

he can't see me
living the way
I did when he
left and I stayed,
he can't know,
he shouldn't at all.
I love him,
it wasn't his fault.

"butterfly," I say again,
"don't you ever for a moment
think that I stopped loving you.
it was the exact opposite, will,
and it still hurts, even though
you're here.
I don't want you to
disappear,
because I thought we
would be forever,
and then we weren't and
I was torn,
my scars were torn,
and please don't look at that."

and he nods,
and says okay,
and I feel guilty, but
I need to protect him.
even if it's
hypocritical
and I end up
hurting myself
in the end
as if his life
matters more
than my own.
my truth is,

it freaking does.

because he's just a
delicate
butterfly.