Thursday, February 14, 2019

where do butterflies go when it rains?


you strike a pose just like a rose that’s fighting off the weeds

the claws come out in thorny stems which make the fingers bleed

venus fly trap i close the gap my fingers on your face

with words your defense i unwrap in effort to erase

 

“all of my lyrics linger in your laughing lissome lines

to trace them with my fingers is like touching the divine

the other men that you let in then learned they were a lie

could not perceive what i can see but let me simplify

 

my first thought in the morning is the beauty you possess

i offer this with words and kiss against all you protest

the beauty of your person radiates in flesh and heart

creation was flirtatious and made you a work of art”

 

          *

 

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