exfoliated butterfly scales

response to Aditi Rao's The Fingers Remember 

a butterfly spreads its wings
on a woman's shoulder for
everyone to see.
it was blue and barely
ink under her skin. you

were captured by

its mere blue wings.
but woe
         
           this lure for everyone to see didn't
move. because it was nothing
           but for everyone to see.

look at you, captured by its simple pale hue.

but those that did
move, those that did
  twitch
not everyone could see.
         neither could you.
these butterflies laid deeper in the flesh than
anyone could command. Their colossal wings were    coarse and flapped fiercely in wild
                                                                                      commotion against her soft tissues.
They perched heavy
         on  her
       
          heart
          with piercing legs and siphoned (as if it was a flower
                                                             they always sought) more red out than any needle ever
                                                                                                                                 infused blue.



                                                                                                                                 Those mad
                                                                                                                      butterflies died after all.

failing in their struggle to elude.

but on quiet days she heard those that still
moved and felt the exfoliated scales of all
the dead butterflies in her gut. Meanwhile
you're captured by what was simple blue.