Butterflies

"Butterflies."

Butterflies dancing on sunbeams-
Beautiful, glorious, resplendent.
But only to be seen and not to hold-
For with the crushing of those fragile wings,
So, too, my heart.

Not to say that I haven't tried.
Poured out all myself to keep them perfect.
But perhaps even my love is too strong-
A bruising, ravaging force, wild and untamed,
Spelling despair for these fragile hopes.

Destined to follow, but never to hold-
Admire, yet never feel-
Love, yet never be so.

For my love is too full of pain-
My heart is too dark for true beauty.
The only dreams fulfilled are nightmares,
And the only art is etched in flesh and painted with blood.

So dancing wings flit away,
For I will not approach and risk them harm.
And they will not answer my silent, desperate call.
They alight in other men's hands,
And rest in other men's hearts,
Never knowing I have loved them first and best.