January 15th, 2017: Butterfly

This girl was young with thin limbs and quiet.

She felt the breeze until cool glass pressed down.


Water runs by her grave,

and the sunlit rocks keep her alone.


She fell slowly through fragile asphyxiation,

now evaporates to beautiful dust.


Shadows cross her body and years turn.

She lies still upon translucent sand.


Silent wings pressed into vacant position,

dark eyes survey the blanket mist.


She never felt the pain of death.

Miracles keep her clean.


Approaching sexuality with a colorful whisper,

shrill in the glass sheath unrealized.


This body is not the girl.

Her spirit fled through the punctured abdomen.


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