She is a butterfly made of sparkling razorblade steel
Clean and perfect and beautiful, but so dangerous
Delicate and powerful at once, frightfully delicious
My soul weeps to see her fly, my heart fills with longing
Yearning for one bloody kiss, the pleasure and pain
Of her presence consuming me as I knew it would
Cutting me as I knew it would,
Burning away all that is impure in me and leaving me
Unmade, remade in the image of her vanishing shadow
As I knew it would,
But I am helpless to resist.
I do not wish to capture her, she must be set free,
Free to come and to go, to bring sensuous life to me
And to take life away as she wishes.
But she must be free, even as her leaving may kill me
A cage would kill her, and I have not the heart to harm
For she is perfect, ethereal, and purely her own essence,
Divine from skin to soul.
For one golden moment she is near, and I know joy
Like a thousand suns exploding.
I know not how long she will grace me with her eternal gaze
But I know that every second makes my wretched life worthwhile
And my scars will remind me of the joy that once sliced my soul.