when I was little
my mother
told me a story
about the time
she held a butterfly
she loved him, she said

he was yellow and beautiful
he was delicate
and fragile
his wings were paper
and his legs were glass
and he died in her hands

and I have been
absolutely terrified of them
ever since
it's a stupid fear
I've been told
who the hell is afraid of butterflies?

and when I
think of your skin,
white sheets of paper
more beautiful than anything
and your arms, your collar bones
your shoulders, smooth like glass

I am afraid to hold you
or hurt you
instead, I'll watch you from afar
as you soar through
crystal blue skies
further and further away