Flies

Long forgotten

Blackened butterflies

Rotten on emptied spaces

Flies  like smell

Never dying

Always living

  Acquatined butterflies

Friendly flies

Both remaining

Remembering them

Visiting them

Saluting them

Meeting flies

Biting flies

Eating flies 

Is it that they meet us?

Is it that they bite us?

Is it that they eat us?

   

He's that fly inside my heart.