jonsie white


Butterfly

Butterfly crept upon my shoulder,
eyes leap to her instincts kicks in,
mistaken for a bee, slam! ! !
Instantly, I recoil in regret, as
I see my hand tinged with beauty.
Blood, pieces of her wing, black,
due to my paranoia, of things like bees.
Sadly,
the source no more, time to wash
my hands.

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