Good night butterfly.

Tonight you will be alone.

Maybe some old familiar music, steaming cigarettes and haunted noises in your head.

But still it’s quiet alone.


You draw flowers, read poems that you bought last night, scroll through old pictures, hide under blankets smelling of moth balls, wrap cold feet with your restless hands.

There are images that suddenly glower in the tear- kissed light, under the fading sun, under a suffocating roof.

Of you and your mother in an echoing valley, of rippling laughter, of your anger, of a love you can only dream of. Sometimes your fears become bigger than you but they can’t tame you for long. You are a lioness too.

You know how to gaze at Frida Kahlo and seep in the flaming reds. It smells of your bravery, it reminds you of dancing skeletons and freedom. Fire, smoke and celebrations. That time of dawn, when the roads are still sedated and you wake up with a shock. Of being so hopelessly in love.

He could never look at you the same way. You had so much love to give. You were even ready to elope, if he wanted to see you. But what went wrong? And how long do you keep this loneliness? Is there a time, you can finally let it swim back to the sea you picked it from? Let your rage become winged fishes to fly?

Look, there are firecrackers outside.

Lonely lovers are perched on terraces, you are one of them. Your fingers ringed with each other, making a butterfly in the shadow. Let’s make two of them.

But sad, it will only be one.

You know that pretty well by now.