Crazycrazy17

when the chrysalis breaks open and the last of winter's hull has been shaken from the trees, the butterfly boldly exposes her finespun setae to the winds, still stringent and biting among an earnest promise of warmth. she exposes them, completely heedless to their frailty, their paltry fourteen days. timely launderer of nectars- eras in days pass her, a blithe sailing over the tops of the zephyrs that could not ever question her presence. the Eternal Beasts admire her so that they wish to trap her under glass, and title her Monarch- and in her death's dive to the earth, they didn't once fathom her transience, and she didn't once fathom her