a huge ruckus raged through and under her
silent as it was, spectrum coloured thunder bolts with fluttered wings
began to raise her
she was at unease
being so high up, how hard would she fall
if these flutters would dissolve into her unconscious being?
she'd known such butterflies
long ago.
she feared the question marks painted in red liquor
and the cuts in the bonds with her isolation, forcing her return into dependency.
these butterflies had a different name -
they were silent when they chuckled,
they strung together to dress her with embraced future
they picked her up, and brought life back to her
________________
Bethany Louise Rose
2014/15
