Butterfly

I can see you. You are right there, infront of me. Bleeding. You are bleeding. I can see the blood flowing, just as freely as your tears. You are ugly when you cry. The way you scrunch up your nose, the way you squeeze your eyes closed. You are so ugly. So incredibly ugly, and so, so lovely.
You are drowning in yourself, drowning in your horrid self. And like a butterfly, you are reborn. Everytime, you are reborn. I can see it. I can see the bubbles surrounding you, as you reach out, as you are reborn. I can see you reaching out, I can see the bubbles. Only I can see you. See you, as you lay there. Lay here, infront of me. Here, where thoughts become physical. Here, where I can see all of you. All of your disgusting, pathetic, lovely self. You are so ugly. Like this, you are so ugly, and so lovely. Like this, I love you. Like this,

I love you so much.