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Butterflies are something I've kept locked away for some time now
At the notion they bring unthinkable pain
The last time they twirled and swirled around
The taste of your kiss on my lips was but a finite stain

I want to take down the Berlin wan enclosing my heart
I beg and I plead and I ache to let you in
But my bruised and battered heart screams to get a grip
And my mind reiterates upon the thrill that dissapates time again

But what if, with you, my love is safe?
Returned and embraced and cradled and sure?
If our hands fit and our smiles seclude the world around us
For you and I to only exist?

Is this like every other time
When those three, small words are so recklessly used
Or are they picked especially from
The place I wish for them to come
Your heart, your soul, your butterflies