Silence, nothing but silence.
The iridescent white room was painful to look at.
Unbroken ticks of a clock, eyes locked on it as each second passes by
dreading the nothingness.
A winged Butterfly.
Gracing us with Its presence, illuminating the sombre mood
It’s blue wings piercing the air ever so peacefully.
Once it settles, it’s hard to keep eyes off of it.
It’s delicate body perched upon the windowsill
where its flimsy wings expose
the unarmoured exoskeleton
Wouldn’t it be great to be so free?
Yet God was cruel,
Who knew what stage of life
the butterfly
was already at.
A small body,
with wings so powerful to lift itself up
and fly wherever nature decided
its path was for that day.
It’s scales arranged in a beautiful pattern,
Unique to each and every animal.
Nobody could beat
it’s designed beauty .
Speckles of green splattered on the wings
like an Iris, every colour glistened
as the sunlight’s gleam highlighted
every eminence and tear.
I brush the back of your fragile hand
with my thumb.
As we sit here silently
waiting for what’s to come.
Sitting here
with you.
Time stood still for a moment.
The calm before the storm.
Was it hours,
Or mere second?
When the butterfly escaped the room
and you left my grasp…
Crossing the border between reality, and paradise
you looked so peaceful.
As you left me
To untie the pink, silk ribbon
of future hope.