You are like a beautiful coincidence,
a wind that leaves my voice.
after the flutter of your wings.
My sweet butterfly effect,
a singular devil’s fairy,
with dark, reddish wings
who, once the flight begins,
screams she won’t come back.
This wounded state,
that I feel and don’t know what it is,
I read as a dream
written by Machiavelli
from which you awaken,
only to then,
disappear.
a wind that leaves my voice.
after the flutter of your wings.
My sweet butterfly effect,
a singular devil’s fairy,
with dark, reddish wings
who, once the flight begins,
screams she won’t come back.
This wounded state,
that I feel and don’t know what it is,
I read as a dream
written by Machiavelli
from which you awaken,
only to then,
disappear.