Its the unconscious smiles

Automatic weakness.

Its the vacant space between your fingers,

Filled by those gentle interlocking fingers of hers

Its those kisses that make you forget who you are,

Those touches that carve her initials into you,

Making you hers.

It the way she fits into your clothes,

Almost as if they were tailored for her.

Its the way you see all the things that could make and unmake you in her eyes.

Its the way you can’t find yourself when she whispers your name.

That’s how butterflies are born.

-The hopeless romantic who broke.

About The Author

How Butterflies are bornMy name is Eze Kenechukwu Michael, I am a 200 level Law student at The University of Nigeria Enugu campus.

I am also a student writer.