tired of hearing talk of
butterflies       are tired
of their wings being the
object of one’s affection
and we are one          to
talk          about the skin
that dress souls like gar-
ments that we peel off
at the end of a long day
we are raw and naked
and who to see us if not
just curtains &  hollow
bathtubs               filled
with aching spines that
carry heavy souls        and
what’s the point if nobody
asks to look inside anyway?          
tired of talk of skin and form
there is so much more to see    

just ask about
metamorphosis

Nymphs and butterflies were you? Simply a mystery.

Lonely night, wind whistling and wolves howling, down south of the earth.

Glorious day, blue hue sky and butterflies dancing, upper north of the hemisphere.

A different colours of perspective, be it west or east, so move along love.