Butterfly
She was delicate
as a butterfly wing,
intense black hair
rolling down her back,
dense dark eyes,
a shaping of the lips
for the necessary vowels
hinting at other possibilities,
a webbing of cerulean veins
barely hidden beneath
porcelain-thin skin.
She was beauty,
an angel of the second order.
I wish I could recall her name.
For "True Beauty" contest
Copyright © Jack Jordan | Year Posted 2013
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