cataclysm butterfly
trapped in soft-light rapture, brilliant release
pensworth of heartfelt and bitter-sweet
and I wish I'd said goodbye;
caught you between the aether and maybes
and kindled something worthwhile something
a little more than life and respiration and
a sparrow's soft touch against crimson dawn;
And oh, but these brittle fingers shame themselves;
were I to write the words of my emotion livid
amongst the elegance of your mein, an intaglio
against your heart, they may be somehow closer
to truth and passion than this crippled comparison -
and yet not enough mountains are there to climb to
find these words I so desire; to etch a meaningful
memorandum of the sacrifice of mine heart.
you... leave me breathless.
confused and paradoxical and
I just wish I could make this all right.
your wingbeats leave tragic beauty and I should
only wish I were Shakespeare or Monet to
capture such grace amidst paint or ink;
but my words are in contrast a scrawl
to their prowess;
I'm a freeform freefall poet, and
All I can manage is this.
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