the keeper

here is a secret nobody knows
you collect butterflies in a jar
blue, orange, silvery winged things
your eyes bright orbs through the glass

your feet are bound in twine, wispy
unlike your memory, as you recall
that one name, that one time

your hands are as unmoving as your
feet, the fear to hold rousing the
desire more and more...and more
for a feel of the fairy dust that
settle on your brow

but your tears are meaningless
for it is your fate
some love without sound
some choose pain for air
some are born to keep

god blessed your soul with butterflies

..