Author Information
"Butterfly"
by Jeph Johnson
Why must I be bestowed upon
a fetish I am unable?
For my mind's eye, the paragon,
to reach is unobtainable.
Restore to me a hopeful dream;
a goal that seems attainable.
Not a girl of seventeen
where fetish pertains to
things I know nothing about.
Insanity unrestrainable.
My mind is only filled with doubt
-my conscience unreclaimable.
How I wish a leather whip
or perhaps stiletto heels,
or even hot wax candle drips
would capture my ideal.
But instead a butterfly
that has not yet been tattooed
on her fair skin can satisfy
my every thought and mood.
She waits so patiently and calm
for her eighteenth year
June arrives when May is gone
and butterflies appear.
It's an ugly chrysalis
she keeps me in to hide.
As she escapes to greater bliss,
I gasp for air inside.
And so goes teen fantasy,
the fetish other's quell
She is purged to sanctuary,
as I stay in this hell
