Red Butterflies

I wonder if butterflies only wander out of monotony – exhaustion from the glimpses of vibrant colors; searching for the dark jungles and crepitating branches. I wonder if they ever marvel the vigor they possess from consistent soaring; do they die from a few minutes of rest?

The mist they breathe is not even enough to suffice the drained oxygen released from their bodies. Sometimes, I know, they are only seen out of their retro spectrum bodies – a living insect of entertainment.

But what the eyes do not know is their brewing insides; they are not cold.

I feel something too.


WORD COUNT: 100

Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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