Tears, Tidiness and Texture

The wings of butterflies do not decay Some changes are permanent, impactful Some changes will leave scars in place of thin Skin like paper origami Like life folded over to create space for some One new, if I cared I would tell a lie Something like "I have forgotten the way We loved recklessly, loved like we weren't mortal" But this is not a eulogy Long after the butterfly is found dead You can still feel the texture of its wings If you press down gently enough Touch your finger to the surface brush lightly The patterns will leave imprints on your skin