The Return of the Butterfly
It was always just this way for the two of us, my dear.
Would be you crawl to me every time you're winded?
I can only kiss your wounds, and dress them for you.
I could even make the rain stop for a moment or two.
I can hold you, and let you shake, but it is so fleeting.
I am the past, and oh how you crave to abuse yourself.
You only want me because you know not of what else.
I can be anything you need, but that; but a nail to drive.
I refuse to be a torture chamber; cannot be your saviour.
Though one of mine is always yours, you only have one.
If you must do harm to clear your heart, then speak to me.
I can let you bleed me dry if I can save you your instincts.
I know where to draw a line, and know where to set a bar.
I would give you the sun if I had it, love is boundless, but
The temple is not for the likes of me, be it mine or else, so
There is naught housed here that will grant what you seek.
And she dwells here not, I know of ghosts you would hunt.
All I can say of her is I am sorry for bonds we already kept.
For you though, my butterfly, I beg you set her free, for you.
You judge your own face so harshly that you dare not see!
You accepted comforts one would offer and just fell down.
Conveniences your trespasser gave you were not so after-all.
I can help you clear cobwebs, but the fallout belongs to you.
But to ask why; my love is not meant for light or microscope.
You confuse my love with my indifference, distance is safety.
I have no interest in saving myself, dear, how I love is for you.
This would be easy, so then you should see the easy treachery.
Were I to give in to you, I would lose a world, still you lose more.
I cannot suffer you to use me to make another suffer, I will not.
What monster would I be if I believed it just and loved you still?
What evil am I if I allowed you to use yourself, or me, in vain?
Crush me if your anger serves your good, but do it cleanly dear.