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Paula Ann Fields Jun 2011
Love is illusive like a butterfly,
Beautiful at birth but quick to die.
Lowly in nature but learns to fly,
Giving brilliance of color to the naked eye.

Through grace and beauty its’ life is lived,
Fluttering in the breeze for all to see,
How can a small miracle of birth begin?
They die only to be born again.
Mohamed Amer Oct 2011
In a mood of silence, I sat on the balcony
I looked at everything around me
Things are loud and noisy
Car horns drive me crazy
Began to feel sad and lonely
Can’t I be dancing in the fields of fantasy?
Lying under the shade of a tree
Where I can be only me
No rules, no laws, I just want to be free
But then I’m back to reality
Then amid this chaos came a breeze
Brought the humidity of the seven seas
Brought the scent of the spring trees
I just couldn’t stand it, and fell to my knees

There was a flying flower
Drawing a rainbow in this happy hour
The clouds were no more
And the sun shone on the happiness door

This flower was dancing in harmony
It was fluttering, playing a Mozart symphony

But that was no flower dancing in the sky
It was the prettiest butterfly

I asked ‚Can I fly with you?
And sail around the way you do?‛

She said ‚Come, we will have so much fun
I will take you so high, to the summer sun‛

I tried but I don’t have wings to fly around
No matter how I tried my feet were on the ground

She moved a wing in a dance
And with simple glance

She filled me with feelings of ecstasy
Never felt this way, like sailing to the eternity

Where endless emotions fly to the forever
When we keep our eyes cherish each other

When we go so deep
Our eyes can’t sleep

Lost in world beyond description
Filled with divine emotions

But when I open my eyes and see myself on the balcony
I had that distant look with a smile of serenity
Where I have been in dreamland with my fairy
And still the great feeling echoes in reality
Where I smile to the sun as it shines upon me
Where I write this poem smoking my cig, and drinking my coffee
And yet I want to be back to the balcony
To enjoy endless feelings of great moments with her company
Stu Harley Oct 2015
oh
what a
lovely surprise
in
the
cream-colored eyes of
the
bamboo butterfly
breaking
out of
the cocoon
at sunrise
Pepper Dove May 2017
Most days I spend my time
Alone
Just me, myself
and a wall
Yes, a wall
And not an interesting wall either
There are no abstract paintings
hung on it
No intricate wooden trim
to be dazzled by
Nope
Just plain ol' white
A boring and dull
empty and lifeless white
So I try to liven it up a little
and splatter vibrant colors all over it
Orange
to bring warmth after this dreadful winter
Yellow
from the light in my soul
Kisses
of pinks and reds
Light blue and dark blue
to show that the sky is not the limit
and the ocean is not for swimming in
And green
for the peaceful sound the leaves make
when the wind blows through them
And all for what??
to trickle down onto the scratched up floor
into a hopeless mess!
Just on the verge
of crying over spilled paint
a butterfly drifts in
and lands on that **** wall
bringing with him funny little thoughts
belly laughs
and sweet butterfly kisses
Warming my heart a thousand degrees
before gently fluttering on by
disappearing behind the curtain
So now I wait
in hopes of the butterflies return
as I continue splattering paint
on this wall.
He is the wall, and I am the painter trying to bring his true colors to the surface by throwing my color onto him... and just as I want to give up, his vibrancy briefly appears in a subtle charming way I didn't expect, as the butterfly.
Unpolished Ink Jun 2023
Haiku butterfly
sips nectar from word flowers
makes a poem grow
GC Kruger Aug 2011
He held the butterfly close
on a terrace green and far,
not too hard, as it might scar
hopes of which nobody knows.

If only he could dare to dream
take a deep breath and spread their wings
"But this world has many vile things,"
he closed his eyes with no esteem.

She gently came along, first quietly -

"I know a lovely world out there
with birds roaming high everywhere.
Sometimes we need to be naive,
open our eyes and just believe."

And with open arms, she had set him free.
She has the frame of a mature woman
yet still in her eyes a little girl is residing
she is so kind to all yet much misunderstood
and she is always getting in trouble in the hood

She was my girl once
and I still love that girl
I think of her after dark
my sweet butterfly heart

I would love to go back
you know, and start again
but I'm onward bound to my art
my sweet love, my butterfly heart

By Christos Andreas Kourtis alka NeonSolaris
Psychosa Nov 2023
Two moths fluttered across one another's paths
before the breaking of dawn.

One of the moths mistook the other
for a butterfly from a distance,
but the closer they flew towards each other
the moth knew that there was no difference between the two.

At first, the older moth thought the younger was a mirage of herself.
But this moth that stood before her was not the moth herself,
but rather a version of herself that she had shed long ago.

The older moth told the young moth masked as a butterfly
that she must shed her false skin
so that they could fly to the moon, where they were both destined to go.

She offered to show this moth hidden beneath the façade
a path to her true destiny,
but the younger moth flew beneath the healing rays of the night
and descended into a world where she would never be accepted for her true essence.

In the end, the young moth flew to the sun and eviscerated into the fires of her own suffering.
The stars of the night burned bright for the loss of a soul who could not see that her beauty would have shined through any night.
Paige Miller Feb 2013
Even sound leaves an impact
a trace in the air that meets your ear. A planned impact.

Shuffling feet on grass can crush
the hills of ants whose homelands impact.

Bombs leave silhouetted scars,
bodies slip between cracks in politics. Man’s impact.

Vist a foreign land for a week.
Carry-back-culture-in-boxes-and-cans-impact.

The aftermath of a butterfly’s wings?
Can we ban impact?

Finally able to withstand the sharpness of tongues.
Stop walking on eggs shells. Demand impact.

When a King turns his head, let the letters roar.
Revolution makes a grand impact.
Sara L Russell Sep 2009
Ch. 1.

1.

Behold, thou art dark and comely, my love;
richly hath the sun favoured thee,
delighting in thy presence.
Let me savour thy kisses of wine;
for in the gardens of the temple
the lotus furls open,
wild bees fall asleep on her face.


2.

Lilies and jasmine bloom
in the garden of my love;
falls of wisteria,
carpets of thyme.
Let us lie in the shade of the olives
to gaze on the sky.


3.

For many hours my love slept
  beneath the cedars,
couched on cool swathes of linen,
like the Lord of Midnight enthroned on a cloud.
Long tresses of willows shivered to cool his face.
I called his name but he heard me not,
being entranced in slumber,
deep in the thrall of dreams;
therefore I shall let him awaken when he please.




Ch. 2.

4.

A warm breath of nard is my master, my king,
A great golden deity haloed with stars.
Behold, the noble bearing of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
In my dearest dreams he standeth before me
out of my reach, gesturing for me to follow,
calling unto me like the very embodiment of love.


5.

Night comes softly, o daughters of Jerusalem,
My king's desirous eyes have grown heavy with sleep.
His black hair ripples about his face
  like curtains of smoke,
gold bracelets entice my gaze to
the sinews of his arms.
Like roses unfurling, so open the lips of my love,
  I burn for their flavour,
yet awaken him not till he please.





Ch. 3.

6.

Out of the forest I came, with my
maidens and minions;
with carpets of hibiscus strewn at my feet.
Columns of frankincense curved into the air,
burning from lamps of copper and gold.
From the broad slopes of Edom
my soul's love stopped to observe us.
I felt his warm gaze upon me,
so soft a look as touched like caresses of hands.
I am weary with desire, my lord and king,
Bring me the looks of thine eyes, dark as midnight,
That regard me with touches of silk.


7.

Though I may stand with my legion before thee,
an army behind me,
The west wind roars to my left,
the east to my right,
a million strong with all my banners, warriors
and standard-bearers,
still my delight were only to serve thee,
see how I tremble with awe by thy side.


8.

Behold, my ladies, the noble bearing of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
My king is a custodian of the sanctity of love,
see those arms with the strength to smite
yet full of the will to embrace.
Nightly cometh he to my chambers,
whispering of love,
with the stealth of a lion,
as meek as a lamb.




Ch. 4.

9.

Preparing for my beloved,
I have put on my mantle of midnight sky
garlanded with stars.
My black locks are hung with beads of gold,
my neck is anointed with sandalwood and rose.
Come, my ladies,
Bring me my white chargers,
my sedan lined with silks from Lebanon,
my heralds and cavalcades of guards;
My beloved king awaits my pleasure.






10.

When I am in the embrace of my beloved,
He is worlds of landscapes of desire,
he is all the earth, air and sky to me.
His eyes shineth as my sun and moon,
his broad chest becometh as the
cool desert dunes by night,
where I may rest my head.
Go safely in thy dreams, beloved king,
with sentinel angels, to roost with the doves.




Ch. 5.

11.

Such a turmoil of a dream
hath troubled me, my sisters,
I dreamed that my love approached my window,
Calling unto me through the
rosewood trefoils of the lattice.
Forgetful of our tryst I answered him not,
all oils and fine trappings were put away,
mine eyes were full of slumber.
When finally I rose from my bed
   he had gone.


12.

Overwrought and afraid,
I went out in the streets,
  calling unto my beloved,
receiving no answer and calling again.
  The night watchmen came and found me,
they smote me and denounced me as pagan,
calling me harlot and worshipper of false idols,
harshly they beat me with flails
and threw me into the darkest cellars
of the palace of Solomon.


13.

Awakening at last,
I felt a warm breeze,
It was my love's breath upon my face.
Let all the world suspend in time,
let hate, rage and darkness flee as a shadow,
otherwise let me die here in the arms of my king.
There is but this one hour, one place,
in one lingering moment,
When my soul's love and I are conjoined
in the petals of love.




Ch. 6.

14.

Midnight has fallen in the gardens
  of the temple of Solomon.
The moon communes with her sister in the lake,
painting the magnolias with mother-of-pearl,
turning her buds into silver doves.
Passion and beauty intertwine in my love's garden,
Like the twisted trunks of the fig trees of Judea.
Behold, my beloved,
thou art more comely even than the moon.
Come and walk with me
in the balmy air of night.


15.

Only through the love of another may
a soul come to know of itself.
My king is mine and I am his;
The sun and moon each taketh their
turn in the sky,
the shepherds go sure-footed
over their hills and valleys,
the merchants go their ways in the
spice markets of Lebanon,
while he and I are lost in one another's eyes.




Ch. 7.

16.

Love's weariness hath overcome me,
beloved lord and king.
Bring me thy pleasant fruits, thy tender words,
Lie betwixt my *******; my hair shall
be thy curtain,
these arms shall be as thy cocoon.
Let the tides cease their turning
and the winds give pause to hold their breath.
Awaken not my dearest love, until he please.


17.

Even in sleep,
such beautiful eyes hath my beloved;
his eyelashes rest upon his cheek
like the feet of a butterfly on a lily.
Come, my sisters, we shall make him
a bed of hemp and poppies,
with fruit of the lotus,
that he may languish beside me
for many days and nights.




Ch. 8.

18.

Filling my days and dreams,
here is a man with the grace of a young hart,
whose honeyed voice speaketh mantras of desire.
Arise and follow me, beloved, for my vineyards
are ripe with luscious fruits,
the doves beat their wings and fly from the cots.
Emerging from the amber of sunrise,
with a swirling of veils,
summer dances into the season of our love.


19.

Lying amid the twisting vines
My love and I are deep in each other's embrace
and his lips taste of roses heavy with dew.
I am a queen of the Red Sea,
an orchid from a sacred garden,
and my kingdom reacheth to the farthest hills.
None but my love shall pass the boundary
where my vines bear the sweetest fruit,
nor taste their heady wine.


20.

The gates of my vineyard are wrought of
iron clad with gold,
taller than cedars, decorated with
the royal insignia,
guarded by three score watchmen,
by day and night.
While other men are kept without
and the foxes are driven back by dogs,
see how swiftly they open for thee.




Ch. 9.

21.

Behold, the noble stature of a king,
the finely-wrought body of a man.
In the sanctity of love
we may walk in the realm of paradise,
undisturbed by the foibles of men.
Come beloved, awaken,
the new dawn opens as wide and fresh
as infant eyes.
Come run with me through the spice hills
  and gardens of Lebanon.
Mohd Arshad Sep 2014
O Butterfly! flying over the balloon!
do you want to get a great victory?
will you keep climbing there in blue?

O Butterfly! What a dream you have!
what a determination to achieve that!
be my guide to take me along with you!
Notes (optional)
two women

a single
Gemini
of desire

the yin
the yang
betwixt
the known
and unreachable

swinging
on wide
arcs of
extremis

inhabiting
opposite
polar worlds
and all
the spaces
in between
intrepid
sailors
dare hope
to explore

T
the outer
R
the inner

T’s
tiny
name
betrays
a big
robusto
femininity

bombastically
womanly

big *****
jazz *****
perfumed musky
hips and ****
that rock

and those
lips

oh,
those ruby red
Norma Jean lips

I’m puckered
up

begging her
to paste a big
rouge smooch
on my eager lips

press those
bustling bosoms
onto my face

wrap those
arms round me
with a rasperous
hug

shake me
with gyrations
of your gracious
shimmy thang

you wow
the bow
out of this
dog

taking lovers
prisoner
with the
coy blink
of wide
eyes

flashing
lashes
batting
brow
boldly
being
a force
of a
mothers
nature
bearing
and
belting
Bessie’s
*****
blues
to a
howling
crowd
wanting
more

fully
enthralled
bedazzled
enraptur­ed
with quixotic
hypnotics

I'm frozen
solid
hoping to
melt
into the
heat
of your
inviting
fire

R
bespeaks
whispers
from an
inner place

she lines the
lost desires
of a yearning heart

she offers the
softest curves
the delicious touch
the wet presence
of a delicate tongue

limpid fingers
hide shy sly
*******
offering
invitations
to hidden nests
humming the incarnate
dark forest secrets
of bloomed lilacs
and sweet carnations

the voice of poems
dance and flutter
from her mouth
as the lightest
butterfly
wings wayward
onto soft hearts
yearning
seducement

her
kimono
gently parts
at the slightest
suggestion
of a rising
breeze

her songs
invite lovers
to pillowed
chambers
daring
intrepid
men to
risk the
death of
desirous
tempests

I melt
into the
delicate
complexity
of your
fleshy heat

my dear
celestial
twins

the lovely
Gemini
each different
reduce me
in differing ways
to a puddle
of rippling water
reflecting
the glorious
elegance of
wondrous
ambrosial
femininity

Dedicated to
T& R

Music Selection:
Barbra Streisand
Pretty Women

Oakland
4/26/12
jbm
Zhavaed Haemaed Jun 2020
Don't touch me by the tender points
It hurts more than a soul can bear
Be gentle lest the pain doth spread
It moves me on to silent tears
Don't judge me as I let it pass
Let me lie down in bed & writhe
And wish for a reprieve of sorts
Or drug that cures me of this plight
How 'd you know how much it hurts
I have faked on a smile and laugh'd
Sanity hangs loose on edges now
If only I could alter the story's draft
Yet, clarity missing from how it ends
Unforeseen misadventures lie in wait
I have learnt to be at ease; with ache
And strife, this life & dragging weight
Anyone suffering from fibromyalgia will relate.
Lucy Tonic Aug 2012
Black butterfly is hanging round my yard
It looks so soft when life can be so hard
I struggled inside my own cocoon
But I grew wings that flew me to the moon
If peace is futile, then what else exists
Violent urges and profane twists
I need to find my day in the sun
Underrated, but still the night has won
ashley Apr 2013
lying in a field of dandelions
with our chests rising and falling
in the cool summer breeze

watching the clouds drift away
skin to skin
with my head resting upon your chest
listening to your steady heart beats
ba boom, ba boom, ba boom
against your rib cage

kissing so gently you could mistaken
it for a soft flutter of a butterfly's wing
my skin tingles with delight
and my body radiates with glee

what could be better than lying here
with my soul mate?
i couldn't picture anything in the universe
that could be more fulfilling
than hearing your strong breaths,
hushed whispers,
chest beating rapidly

with the hope
of what's to come


a.m.
Aoife Sep 2016
let these adolescent accounts pass
with tedious thoughts and feelings
you are not bound by the ribs of men;
remember
you were grown in the womb of women
despite the rain and wind
you breathed life and felt loved
these tiny caterpillar legs
took you so far
from small steps
to large leaps
you bit your nails in nervousness
and your plans became wings
these faint worries and tainted promises
held nothing in your way
please let your adolescent accounts pass
your tedious thoughts will wash away
small problems like these will be unseen
from your home in the sky
You will grow.
gd Mar 2014
He held my hand today in the most delicate way,     
as if my fingers resembled flower petals and my     
palm reenacted butterfly wings. My hand felt          
fragile in his grip, which mimicked my feelings        
towards him because his heart did not belong           
in the spaces between my touch - his heart                 
belonged in something as light as air; something      
as delicate as cotton. And my heart was tattered      
with thorns, assured to shred his into pieces. All      
the more treacherous, he traced my fingers be           
tween my mittens, and it still felt like fabric -            
contrary to your inevitable static. And that is           
when I knew that even though he did everything    
right, he made it that much worse. As much as he    
tried, my frost-coated lips challenged the warmth    
in his voice, and it wasn't me he needed. It was I      
that needeth not deserve him.

gd
WordWerks Nov 2015
a butterfly flirts with me

she stands before me
but turns when i look

then

she fans herself
like a spanish dancer
teases her audience

i wonder if she knows
how captivated i am
by her alluring ways

or

how i'd do anything
to hold on to this
moment

i can only pray
please stay
Kilam TA Jul 2017
Butterflies flap their wings to escape gravity
Allowing the winds of change to lift them towards peace
like a monk's prayer
Say what you will about this story of humble beginnings
True humility is in the lobe it takes to encourage this journey
through times darker than shade
So I say to my butterfly
Let me be your wind
And always support your flight
Jules Oct 2017
Red
Yellow
Black
The colors of a monarch
When it is not weighed down
By cold wet sand
Its wings were wet and broken
Useless
So it lay motionless
Lifeless
Under the dull sky
It tried to fly
Only to be carried by the wind
A moment of hope
Before it was thrown down
Into the unforgiving sand
It should have died
Marcisouly it was still alive
I picked it up
It was so weak that it went into my hand
And stayed there
For it was to broken to fly
I carried it off the beach
And built it a house of shells
That will most likely be its grave
Red
Yellow
Black
The colors of a butterfly
When it is not caked with sand
When the beauty is not broken
When it is flying high
Instead of being batted down
By the wind
i wrote this for English call in about 10 minutes so don't be to harsh
Lorraine day Sep 2013
Like a whispered word
It flutters by with elegance and ease
Amongst the golden daffodils the ascending summer breeze
The captivating beauty
So delicate
Demure
Such freedom
It encompasses the spectator with much allure
Fleetingly it travels kissing natures path and sky
So astounding is the beauty of the butterfly
Chiquita Jan 2020
You say life is a disaster
I tell you not
Have you watched the sun rise up?
Have you seen the flowers at early dawn;
The way the face of the sun is seen glowing in the dew drop.
Take a moment to see life is the world around you.
You say life is a disaster
I tell you not
Have you smelt the earth at the birth of rain?
Have you let the wind give you a loving embrace;
As the sweet smell lingers around and calms every soul it touches.
Stop whatever you are doing to see life is the world around you.
You say life is a disaster
I tell you not
Have you seen the moon kiss the night sky
And how it brings every hidden star alive;
The way it lights up the sky and illuminates the beauty of the dark night.
Take a moment for yourself  and see that life is the world around you.
You say life is a disaster
I tell you not
Have you seen the colours on the butterfly?
Have you watched a tiger prancing by?
They both are different in size but yet so majestic in their own way.

Take a moment
Take your time
Take note of what’s passing by.
You say life is a disaster
I tell you
To feel the wind, it is waiting to embrace you.
Admire the beauty in nature when the sun is born.
Take a deep breath of the earth and watch it as it moves.
Use your sense,
Use them all
And let your restless soul calm down.
You say life is a disaster
I tell you not
Life is You and everything around you.
There is beauty in every little being;
Even if life is a disaster
david badgerow Dec 2014
when you asked me about certainty
and if my mind was a tree
rooted in cement and truth
i was on my unaccustomed knees
blinking into a sunbeam's architecture when
the brilliant wind brought you to me
to cure me with the miracle touch
i was alone by a window dreaming through glass
you bent toward me in a mile wide sky
a butterfly with a skinny voice
or an adorable tomato in a retail uniform
before that i only knew the clouds
as bears wrapped in pastel baby-blankets
before i first kissed you in the street
i knew the sunset as a drop of fire
in a barrel of whiskey and
suddenly your eyes like a deep pool in a forest
seeking out my past with the molecular traces
of your fingers across my abdomen
mandalas blooming out of our palms
only touching at the fingers
as flames from mosquito torches filled
the round coral faces of my gauges
with apricot light
Quiet May 2014
i am sorry-

because my butterflies flew away

because i wilted

and no amount of care could bring me back,

away from my silver sliver.
GailForceWinds Dec 2014
If I could just strip away
All the superficial crap
Am I too thin
Am I too fat?
Old
Young
Pretty
Ugly
Too outgoing
Too shy....
This is how I'm judged, I dare wonder why
If you could see past this cover, into my soul
You will find nothing less than a heart of gold
Peel away the layers, see what lies within
It's a beautiful butterfly, with a broken wing
in 1992, a child is born
and handed a gift.

he opens the box labelled "life"
and examines its contents.

a blanket hand-stitched
with hope, perseverance,
and comfort

draped over a teddy bear
stuffed with fearful nightmares,
and heartache.

a blue jar labelled "sadness",
containing fluttering butterflies
symbolizing joy.

a ticket for the rollercoaster
he's finally tall enough to ride,
with no warning
of the endless ups and downs.

that two-minute rush
of adrenaline
followed by hours
of motion sickness.

this child
is now twenty six.

he is staring at the empty
box labelled "life" -

at the worn-out blanket
lying next to
the teddy bear's stuffing -

at the shards of blue glass
and butterfly corpses -

at the torn up carnival ticket.

he regrets ever accepting this gift.

- v.m
this is a very real story of a very fictional box and a very non-fictional human.

now, this very real ultra violet remarkeyable is here to tell you that you have been given your very own box labelled "life" for your very own unique reason. all you have to do is discover what that reason is. only then, i think, will you truly appreciate your very unique little box.

my butterflies are alive and well. i hope yours are too.
F White Mar 2011
You just can't
compete with
**** Me
boots.

The leather-clad calves
that
whisper "come to bed...
I promise so
many touches"

Cardigans merely dictate
"shoulders maybe...
You  so much as peek
at my
collarbones, and you're
done for,
Mister."

Spoken -
Maybe I would
tease...

"Try only,
to kiss
my cheek
because I'm
on the
boring bus"
(and especially
in your Chamber)

Or so you
would suppose.

But inside this
sweater, I'm
a *Butterfly.
Copyright FHW, 2011

A.N: the things people wear in coffee shops..I swear...
Whiskurz Dec 2012
Behold the silence when a butterfly dies
That's heard throughout the land
For a gentle hush will start to rise
That no one can understand

Each time a butterfly falls from the sky
Another heart has been broken
The wind inhales and begins to sigh
For fate again has spoken

Can the butterfly feel the pain that we bear?
Or is it the other way around?
Does heartbreak come as they fall from the air,
And gently float to the ground?

One thing's for sure when butterflies die
The pain by both can be felt
The truth is we'll never know why
We just play the hand that we're dealt

Behold the silence when a butterfly dies
That's heard throughout the land
For a gentle hush will begin to rise
That no one can understand
MelancholicPanda May 2016
I killed my butterfly.
Pure and sweet.
Her wings no tattered;
Heart can't beat.

She once flew proudly,
Way up high.
She now withers in shame;
Looking at the sky.

She remembers this pain
From long ago.
She thought it was gone,
Buried deep below.

But it rose to the surface
to disrupt life.
Creates stinging, ****** marks,
A rusty box knife.

Deep breathes, a sigh;
Releasing her pain.
Another one is needed,
To keep her sane.

Once beautiful and kind,
Now ready to decay.
Her essence defaced.
I killed her today.
Solegrina Jul 2014
Once upon a time
a butterfly noticed its own fragility
and submitted itself to the winds

Once upon a time
the wind noticed its own dispersion
and submitted itself to the hills

Once upon a time
a hill noticed its own hardness
and submitted itself to the grasses

Once upon a time
the grass noticed its own dependency
and submitted itself to the earth

Once upon a time
the earth noticed its own monotony
and submitted itself to the flowers

Once upon a time
a flower noticed its own inaction
and submitted itself to the bees

Once upon a time
a bee noticed its own irrationality
and submitted itself to The Queen

Once upon a time
a human could notice her humanity
and thus she beheaded the king.
SC Kelley Sep 2018
I write in the midnight corner of now and what is to come. Sifting through the ashes of the forgotten. I seek what I fail to find in a light I can scarcely see. The rain washes the sins from my skin so that the ones inside can bleed back out. My words catch the air with gentle, intense passion. I caress the broken cheek hoping to fix it and finding only myself more broken. I know not of what is to come but I can prepare myself with the ammunition of my past. The brittle autumn wind calms me with the vibrant colors of a dying world. My mind wanders into the absent recesses of my twisted imagination. The words I write copy the voices in my torn heartstrings. I lust for the cold rain fingers that embezzle my mind. My soul is painted with the bright blackness of a blackhole's laughter. There is a butterfly caged in my stomach and I'm too afraid to let it free.
- - -
When will I know that I've found rapture?

~S.C. Kelley
For the broken and lost like me
lil' lolita Sep 2014
the roses on her grave are dead,
so am i
the ground is frozen solid,
can you hear the deer wander
reincarnation
can you hear the flutter of the butterfly wings?
abandoned tea cup in the shed
now a spiders home
i'm alone
PrttyBrd Oct 2014
Thick skin falls in pieces
To reveal a molten liquid center
A beauty never gazed upon by another
A glow of heat and pain and ...love
Hidden from prying eyes
Kept safe from strangers and "loved ones" alike
Permanent fists grip tightly
As the center boils hot upon its release
And a trickle becomes a flood
In the right hands...

In the right heart
The stiff grip loosens
And new skin, soft and supple
Replaces the old
Stronger than one could have imagined
Sweeter than one could hope
A butterfly against the odds
And a struggle ends in .....**love
100914
For that sweet one, the one no one else can truly see.

— The End —