Butterfly fragile,
my wings new grown.
I flew. I dreamed,
and I flew
right into your net.
Coaxed by a breath of words
fluttered into my susceptible ears,
Entrapped by my own desire.
to believe
that the intensity in your eyes
was more than the clinical interest
of a magnifying glass.
Pin my wings,
taking out your heart
even as I strip bare.
Mount me.
I helped you weave the net
so much thicker, so much tighter,
with my own indiscretions.
Bind me, wrapping me fast
into my cocoon.
Turn me back
from newly metamorphed butterfly
to graceless worm.
I let you experiment,
your gaze scientist cold,
forgetting I once knew
how to fly.
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