The She-Butterfly

As if suspend by air

The she-butterfly 

Opened her winds,

In her blue colors

Light projected

Every pixel of her being

In every motionless move.

Wrap around a poll

Seamlessly her wits 

mixed with colors,

Nature’s palate 

Carefully teased out

Her magnificence.

The Morpho-she butterfly 

Dances majestically

without hesitation,

Her skin pronounces 

The ritual,

The dance, 

The universe. 

I must defend 

My consciousness 

Against her presence

Her voluptuousness,

Her eyes,

Her lips,

Her being;

It brings out

The unreasonable,

Desiring a boundless

Allotment 

Of kisses,

Of sights, 

Of round pronunciations;

To drown me, 

Confuse me,

And eventually 

Kill me:

What a sweet 

Death...