The Puelicher Butterfly Vivarium

March 28, 2018

My bent bed bowed in the same place I’ve remained buried in for months.
My cruel mother captured me as her convict, carrying me to the cramped car. 
I balled, barked and bellowed.
I couldn't come close to the vivarium, the crude copper butterfly chain constricted                        my throat, I couldn’t breathe. 
The air balmy and burdensome to breathe, lingering in my lungs.
The circling winds were compelling enough to curl the ends of my coarse coils.
A breathtaking blue butterfly landed gently on the tip of my finger.
A calming cerulean blue butterfly cut away at my negativity.
There, water bled beneath the boulders like syrup blanketing a stack of pancakes.
There, the conflagrant air hugged my body like a cosy cashmere comforter. 
The place I’ll remain buried in for months, the butterfly vivarium.
The copper butterfly chain released my throat––I could breathe again.

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