Papier-mache

My hands feel as though
they are made of papier-mache
and tear like butterfly wings,
so fragile, the body,
that I took my Mother’s opal ring
and wear it now as a reminder,
as though somehow it might
keep her close to me, even though
I cannot fly any longer
and am so broken I would crawl
back into the chrysalis if I could,
and pull the silk up over me
and dream of opals
while surrounded in your love.

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