Streets.

I don't know why

I'm drinking an

iced coffe in the

middle of the rain

but the cold I feel

is from my inside

burning everything

I left behind.

I can't get ahold of myself

my hands are trembling

as I grab a little butterfly.

In the streets I was

brushing my doll's hair

it wasn't soft like yours

and the woman in the streets

asked me to give my

doll to her daugther

but I prefered to

throw my innocence away

instead of giving her a smile.

I squeeze the butterfly

hardly against my chest

can it hear my heartbeats?