The first time I heard her name
was the first time I’ve ever heard the future
on someone’s voice
resting there gently as a butterfly dangles
on a pistil. The first shot of hope
fluttered within me, a taste of power
over the life I so desperately wished to live.
Ringing in my eyes,
I harmonize my caterpillar demise,
readying the rise of compromise;
butterfly’s reprise.
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