Tender Butterfly
Published in
1 min readApr 24, 2024
A Poem
I could be a woman who doesn’t stir any waters,
who rests in my softness and shines my feminity all day.
I could be a woman who whispers softly
and radiates a glow of gentility and calmness everywhere.
I could be a woman who’s a cosy blanket for a man to lie on,
a soft landing place for his heart,
and a sweet sanctuary for his soul.
But when all I’ve been given is a bed of thorns to lay on,
and acidic words that corrode my soul.
Don’t be surprised when I’m not a tender butterfly
ready to fly and rest in your cold hands.
