ambiguous in her desire, she swept
into the sky in an auspicious manner.
imagine venus, spindled together.
altogether winsome. that was her.
as though taunting me,
the butterfly began to pirouette around me.
oh to be in such a spirit.
tiny scales and kaleidoscopic,
varicolored beating hearts.
wings of impression but in symbolism,
with the practicality
of flight.
american lady, silverdrop, cloudywing—
either which she is,
julia was once [...]
Filed under: cowardice, just prose | Tagged: butterflies | Leave a Comment »
