Non-Erotic PoetryAn Empire of AshesYou are the powdered pigmentation
Left from a butterfly’s wings
On my calloused hands.
On a child, it’d be metaphorical.
On me,
I just look like a murderer
As if I ended the monarch.
You are the cocoon
That wouldn’t break
When I needed out.
Forcing me to watch life
Through the fissures
As I wasted away into
A beautiful monarch corpse.
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