Glimmering, shimmering wings,

hiding beautiful things, flashing
iridescent displays clashing
blue-green-violet haze.
Trapped inside a thorny maze,
wings bruised from every fall.

Sweet honeysuckle drip-drop slow,
down her hands the red rivers flow.
He tried to clip her wings;
she showed him beautiful things
facade of sunlight, glinting, streaming.
Wonder if anyone heard him screaming.

No one ever suspects the butterfly