Why is your love a butterfly...

Why is your love a butterfly...


Your life is such a feigned and bitter thing
Ignoring scent and perfume, honeyed sweet
Whilst to a wilted flower, your despair doth cling
As its pedals fall, one by one, in taciturn deceit
Should love be more a bliss, nigh a resentful sting
And passions, fire, in lieu of winter's sleet
Eternal love, is not a dreamer's desperate dream
Why is your love a butterfly, with forever folded wings

Is thy hearth and garden so powerful a wanting thing
It can nurture an unattended heart, and lend its missing beat
Or add an optimistic chorus to the dirges that you sing
When night doth fade, with dreams, and their amorous retreat
Or when snows give way to the vicissitudes of Spring
Do you hold thy dominion against thy breast to feel somehow complete
Yet vows once heard, now echo with a dull and mendacious ring
Why is your love a butterfly, with forever folded wings

Can your trepidation be such a devouring, omnipotent thing
Its lies embezzle truth, and love becomes a cheat
Are thy prevarication’s more compelling, with less sting
Then to gaze upon your soul where passions lye replete
How can thy heart find comfort within a never ceasing swing
As time hollows out the ground beneath your anxious feet
And the rope that binds your illusion, becomes a tangled string
Why is your love a butterfly, with forever folded wings.

Is chance to love less mortar than that which thy stony heart doth cling
Would not the warmth of flesh and blood be less deceit
And within your empty heart, would a bell not finally ring
Why is your love a butterfly, with forever folded wings