No false hope and longing,
ever brought about a belonging,
but your incubus still sits heavy on my dark.
I was a flighty butterfly,
but I was your butterfly,
that dusted the colour in your heart.
I try to scribe away the pain,
briefly banish you to whence you came,
the breeze blows me solitude and I mourn.
I re-write my ending to self preserve,
not only what I desire but what I deserve,
will the pen be mightier than the sword?
Excerpt from “This World, Another Time – “Of Lilith and Anthony” © Katypoetess 2013