Dirty little secrets
knows the blue butterfly,
The side affair of the lord’s wife with the handsome young gardener
A child’s hideout from the world who rips her apart,
A sweet innocent rose from a secret admirer,
lying on the porch, like an uninvited guest,
faced with wrath and curious questions.
A virgins first touch with pleasure,
Skin on skin,
Pleasure and pain,
both mixing in glorious harmony.
Blue wings, blue body, glittering in morning sun,
the creature floats among the draughts and nothingness,
meaningless without the knowledge he owns,
the little secrets that he knows,
of the apprehension of a little boy’s crush on his older sister,
of a father who is a father no more,
of the girl disowned for eloping with her lover,
of the pain of a mother whose son moves away for studies of higher order.
The blue butterfly flits from flower to flower,
like a rumour unleashing itself upon a city of love and hate.
The secrets of the flowers and and the bees and the sun above,
secrets of the wind,
secrets of the love notes between two star-crossed lovers
that is this little blue butterfly,
and the dirty little secrets that he has grown to hold.