My Butterfly...

 I'm not in depression,
it just hurts when this heart of mine lies...
and every day I don't see her another part of me dies.

 I do everything I do for an angel,
an angel that I call My Butterfly.
I'm not asking for another chance, I just wanna know why?

 Why everytime that I hang up the phone,
does this once strong man now cries?
How do tears flow so smoothly out of these iced and callused eyes?

 She could do anything...
like spread her wings and fly,
but as these tears fall another part of me dies.

 I used to cook her favorite food every morning,
like now as this bacon fries;
sadly, when I stop and look around I wont find My Butterfly.

 I do know that it's impossible to love more than I,
so do not question me about how, when, where or why;
but I know the last thing I'll do before I die
will be to love an angel... I call My Butterfly.

By: Cheyenne Buchanan