(Poetry Challenge Week 15)
Some things we never meant to be
permanent:
The taste of your words
(dancing on the tip of my tongue,
just beyond my grasp when I reach for them).
The flutter of butterfly wings
(buried deep in my stomach,
settling as snow falls.)
The right words evade me,
crossing the boundary between loved
and lost.
Like a puma,
majestic beauty
disappearing into the woods.
Some things were never mean to be
caged.
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