Butterflies + Red Flags, a poem.

Contrary to popular belief, they say that the feeling of butterflies in your stomach isn’t nessisarily a good thing.

While they are to be perceived as feel-good smiles that you can’t help at first, if they linger for more than a couple of dates their purpose changes.

Something to the effect of self-inducing, anxiety-ridden security alarms going off inside of our bodies.

Butterflies at the beginning are nothing to be concerned about, they say. But they should diminish as you fall in love, I guess.

If they don’t go away, red flag.

And if we’re all being honest, there definitely is a difference between those feel-good butters we feel at first and the danger flies we decide to ignore.

Victims of narcissistic lovers please stand up.

But, riddle me this..

What is the significance of those butterflies spreading their wings and migrating to the heart?

They (whoever “they” is) don’t say anything about butterflies in your heart.

That’s the thing, they don’t say anything about them because I don’t think it happens all that often.

A heart full of monarchs is as rare as a celebrated jubilee.

It’s raw and pure; the anxious alarms of what hung out in our stomachs are so far away, it’s inaudible.

Butterflies only settle in our hearts when it’s safe, right? Almost like a reverse metamorphosis.

The butterflies diminish because there’s no longer anything to be nervous about, you’ve found your person.. in theory. But they are always there, as if they’re cocooning, hibernating.

“They” should write about stuff like that because the heart butterflies feel so different than the stomach butterflies.

The key difference, in fact, is when the wings flap at just the right second, you find yourself in the eye of the storm rather than the arms of the hurricane.

Danger, regardless, and still a red flag.

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