A Metaphorical Longing

That guy, his heart twitching in body's vise Posed an exterior for what's call love inside, Thoughts become words shedding disguise. O electronic syllables freedon cannot chide Is more empowered than this coccoon will For no mores sepal break that it may fly. He Is not my awesome butterfly; I do not spill My colours into light, the larva keeps mystery From the eye. I know love is freedom, since We cannot give the soul without some trust To cuddle us in the palm, and keep convince The fragile thing with its wings so full of dust Will not be squished by curiousity's touching. Love struggles telling now personal suffering, And deep imbibing of nectars laced with pain, What entry through metaphors did you gain?