Black Butterflies

She looked at him and his eyes were telling her the story without words being necessary. She took a deep breath in, and moved her eyes towards the wall, hoping that in the moment she would turn around his eyes would tell something different. The second she turned; she couldn’t spot them anymore. Without realising his body got closer to hers and the heat she once felt turned into ice. His touch felt the same as the air touching her skin once she left the house. She moved around to look him in the eyes. She wanted him to suffer for everything he put her through.

As she lifted her hand towards his face, a black tear was running down his cheeks and all she could do was wipe it with a petal of the roses he gave her. She took the keys from the table, but he stopped me.

“Will you stay?” he asked.

“And why would I do that? Call them instead!”

His lips pressed into hers and the taste of his latest glass of wine lingered on her lips. She told herself she wasn’t going to fall in the same trap. He was a magician, but she knew she had to run away from his spells. She took his hands into hers. They were enormous but she felt the need to look at them before they turned into ashes. She took out the ring that once gave her the idea he loved her, and placed it right between bones and ashes. She turned her gaze toward his face, and it was like she could see the beginning again.

“Was it worth it?”

“I’ll get you back. I promise!”

It was always the same, but every time he got her back, she was different. Different hair, different eyes, different heart. Piece by piece transforming into glass. She pushed him harder this time, and his body transformed into butterflies. Those butterflies that started everything now they were black. Black and full of sorrow.

She started running and kept on running for days, until her feet got tired, and her soul started to melt out of her body. It was dripping out from her fingertips, leaving a trail behind her. She ignored people calling her name. She ignored calls and emails for days on end. Black butterflies following her everywhere she went.

“I miss you…”

“You shouldn’t!”

After weeks of sun downs and litters of wine, she got herself together, painted her eyes with the remains of the lilies in her balcony and left. It was supposed to be the day she entered herself back into society. It was supposed to be the day she put the pieces of her heart back together. As she was climbing the steps towards the party, the black butterfly set on her hand. She looked at it without sorrow this time.

“Look at me!” she heard. At first, she thought the butterfly spoke, but her wine finished days ago so reality struck. She turned around and saw him at the base of the steps. Those black eyes were replaced by glacial blue ones. He grew a beard, and he held her ring in his left hand.


“I just want to touch you!”

Without realizing he came closer to her. He was so close she felt his breath lingering on her skin. Why was she feeling like that? Why was she drawn to him? He touched the butterfly laying on her arm and it was slowly turning blue.

“Will you stay?”

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