Butterfly, a poem

https://s22.postimg.org/7rrow3toh/298447_2533056694524_644506119_n.jpg

Wings the shades of fire,
Silences as you pass me by.
A touch bemoans my desire,
Disappointment evens the score as I try.

Untouchable beauty detained within,
For if my plea were a promise known.
Ultimate outcome would be mortal sin,
Pain after pleasure a foundation of my own.

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