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butterflies
February 8, 2019
all my dreams are butterflies and their wings
waxy, raw, and delicate
“I’ll be careful” you assured me
but with sticky, probing fingers lurking so close to my heart
pulling and tugging the strings so tenderly with one hand
just so I lingered close enough
and in the other, holding out a shimmering platter of decadent, discreet compliments.
but
when I reached to take what I thought was mine
you snatched them away,
let them go. one by one
right before my glassy, drooling eyes
each fluttering away on the breeze given power by your breath and your words
now they bloom in some faraway garden: ripe and blistering with nectar
and I
now washed up and wings stuck
I am not to fly
© Ashley B., North Port, FL
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