He colored me
like a carnival
face-painting.
He made me blue
like the cornflowers
that cradle
broken glass
on the kitchen floor.
I'm his butterfly queen.
Popcorn smells like death
when it's crunching
in the soil
under my feet.
I'm watching him swing
like he'll never come down.
He's so fleeting.
Don't think I want him
to ever come down
but don't know
what I'd do if he didn't.
He's swinging and he
never misses,
painting my face-
I'm his work of art.
Butterfly wings
around my eyes,
broken glass in my feet
makes it hard to walk.
I guess I'll have to fly.
I hear silence,
I hear sirens
flocking to me,
I'm their butterfly queen.
Everything is
red and blue.
I'm red,
he's blue.
We're violet.
