Butterfly Kisses

I have seen the dark,

I have felt the cold.

I have lain in good times,

And I've stood in bad.

I have felt the harsh words,

Like a razor blade Butterfly.

That sweet Sinful Delight,

Of the most scarlet red.

I have lived,

And I have died.

Reborn as I am a new being,

One which understands the butterfly.

And those tiny gleaming wings did dance,

Playing across my flesh with such sensitivity.

And there before It's purity I wept.

Though not of remorse nor of fear.

But for the beauty of the Butterfly.

And as I felt it's touch,

I could feel it's burn,

Marking me,

Taking bits of me with it.

And it danced across my scars.

And though I bled,

I was also healed.

And though it did leave behind its own scars.

These scars ached with a warmth unfamiliar,

Always reminding me,

That they were good.