Butterflies

It's almost 2 in the morning and
your guard has
 been slipping,

words
emotion
soul
spilling,
you placed 

butterflies in my 

chest and I 

can hear them beat;
but now it's
the grey afternoon
and somewhere in my dizziness
the wall has been
fortified again,
the warmth is cut off
and the butterflies are
cocooned
and I don't know
if I can hear them
anymore.