I saved up all my butterflies
and put them in a jar.
Soft and steady searching.
No aggression.
Only a girl aware of the flutters that whirled by.
With one cupped hand I fill my jar.
Sealing the top to prevent majestic escape,
but giving air, and the capability to flit.
One glorious day, I willingly hand you my jar.
Gentle release.
Butterflies float.
Butterflies fly.
A plethora of colors swirling in the atmosphere.
A new world.
A new start.
Intoxicating beauty.
Time.
Distance.
Rainbow fading fast.
Melting into the promise of night.
Dark.
Cold.
Empty jar.
Alone.
The jar is shattered.
Jagged shards sparkle in the dirt.
The remains of hope and patience.
New jar. Fill it up. Suffocated beauty.
Goodbye trust.
I'm left with an eternal jar of carcasses.