When the Sun Comes Up
"It was never a butterfly at all..."
Your nimbly stencilled, night-sky black
Butterfly tattoo
That used to be daintily doodled across
Your beautiful baby face
Soft and spherical
Open wide, like the moon
Well, now I can see.
It was never a butterfly at all.
The wings covered rotten skin,
Burnt black and stretched taut across the pikes
Where rests the heads of your discarded personas:
Sleep well, girl-next-door
Rest in peace, emotionless heartbreak
Go to die, seductive and shy.
The darkness’ mouth gapes
Screaming, then
Sharp intake-
You suck it all back.
A patchy pout, your face crusted with yellow pus,
Oozing transparent film coating the
Ugly scar.
Even now, your pain is painted,
As curtains coyly close.
About the Creator
Victoria Simons
An 18 year old daydreamer trying to make sense of the big, wide world.
Come explore with me...
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