private melancholy (butterfly)
it was sunlight and lemon,
by a petal’s place.
gold dust, light and velvet,
breeze, soft and grace.
for sure unafraid!
quiet. not a flutter.
gold dust, light and velvet,
perhaps, made to suffer?
wasn’t mine to keep,
wasn’t mine to hold.
we opened my hands,
and let it go.
by my hands set free.
but
gold dust, light and velvet,
left as a gift to me.
a grazed wing,
a broken heart.
—
he once held a butterfly
between my hands.
completed shortly after midnight on may 20, 2015.
i tried to hold on to something beautiful, delicate and free; but grazed its wings (and mine) instead.