Fluttering

A poem about emotional armor, the feelings that linger beneath the surface, and the tension between inner peace and the outside world.

Butterflies flutter
in my stomach,
they tickle and tighten
my throat.

It’s not a crush
or nerves,
rather a feeling 
unsettled.

I’m frozen,
still and unmoving
with a heart racing,
time pacing.

Around me 
figments of shadows,
of voices,
envelop me in their worry.

I hold my peace,
unbridled hopefulness,
inside a world 
that’s just mine.

Some days, 
cracking open, 
I’m touched 
by the outside.

It wrestles my zen,
crumbles,
scratches away
my armor.

And once again
I start to wonder

if in my cocoon

there will always be

a fluttering