Pulsating...
Throbbing...
Reaching down my throat,
It twists my stomach into pieces
Until the butterflies come out;
With wings soft as velvet.
Gently it grabs my hand,
Reaching my heart.
It takes over.
Soaring...
Falling...
Flying into a new world,
Where can hearts sing?
Here, they come alive
Their beating like drums,
Making music to the butterflies.
While the wind blows softly,
All night in warm ripples.
(An objective correlative is a situation or a sequence of events or objects that evokes a particular emotion in a reader or audience.)
