Broken Beauty

In the gardens of Hell,

filled with wilting roses

and fields of asphodel,

laid a broken butterfly,

it’s wings torn.

I picked it up, gently,

and held it close,

admiring it's broken beauty.

I took the butterfly,

and walked with it through the castle,

past shattered vases painted silver

and destroyed windows

of magnificent stained glass.

We exited the castle,

and I looked up at the rain-filled sky,

listened to the symphony of damned souls.

I looked out at the darkened,

ash-covered fields with a smile.

The butterfly lifted it's ruined wings.

I held out my hands,

and it took off, slowly but steadily.

I followed it, hiking up the skirt

of my slightly shredded dress,

until it led me to you.

You were seated under a tree,

completely barren of leaves.

Your clothes were torn as mine.

A frown possessed your lips,

and a tear grazed your cheek

as you looked out at the lost horizon.

We sat together-

you, I, and the butterfly,

enjoying the beauty

of our broken world.