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?
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