Blue morpho lands on rotten fruit, fermented nectar intoxicating, drinking its fill to flutter off to find more in sealed fortresses
morphing into blue storms, searching in the throne room lounging on plush ornate chair with the sunlight at her feet dreaming a flash of azure holds her gaze settling on the rim of heavy, lip-stained glass holding crimson
a longing to reach over to touch minds, sending signals wading in metaphors, lingering trembling a beat before hands poised for action fall into resignation slamming the jewelry box shut, grimace at the force stowing diamonds away, treasured within breath returns tearing fibers of lungs, burning liquid gold streaming from almond eyes
as the sun beams, hazy light through wide windows reflecting on marble columns, hopeful warmth not a conduit for heat masterpiece of architecture, pushing and pulling invisible forces aesthetic, sculpted enough to hold Atlas' burden barely functional, kept afloat in dim pulses of life to avoid the halls of the dead
her gown rustles like dried leaves on the forest floor, she glides across cool stone toward grace hopeless in a familiar way hurting from holding fragments of broken glass embedded in memories
blue wings unfold flying back toward the forest as she pours dark red to the floor libation of love, having never found its way
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 