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Butterflies

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Belinda Wood

[/vc_column_text][vc_single_image image=”2954″ img_size=”large” alignment=”center”][vc_separator color=”white”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Butterflies 

I think I have insects in my spine

Crawling with their pincers on my skin

and wings of paper battering my gut

Climbing the bones of my ribs, 

and laying eggs in my throat

You gave me ants under the eye socket,

And I felt them pull under the kidney

I felt them pull and I thought,

This must be it

That stars-in-the-eyes and butterflies-in-the-belly kind of 

kick

I have a tendency to attach to air

The further away they feel, the closer I am to nothing[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column][vc_separator color=”white”][vc_separator color=”white”][vc_separator][vc_column_text]Belinda is a wandering psychology student with a penchant for self-reflection. You can often find her with a mug of peppermint tea by a lofty window, pretending to read a psychology book. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]