The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly

The Unthinkable’s Whisper

I asked the unthinkable—
a question born of a feeling too fierce to silence.
A woman’s intuition, that wild inner compass,
urged me forth, regardless of the pain it might bring.

I trusted that quiet knowing,
believing in its honest, if ruthless, guidance;
despite warnings whispered in caution,
I pressed on because when our hearts speak, we must listen.

But confirmation arrived like a cold wind:
There was no room left for me,
Another presence claimed the space
where I once nurtured hope, where I once imagined a life renewed.

I’m not angry with him,
No—the actual storm breaks within me;
a tempest of self-reproach for ever clinging to
a shimmer of possibility, a glimpse of what could never return.

The damage, like a tornado,
has scattered moments into fragments,
leaving my heart overwhelmed by unspoken emotions—
each one a testament to all I’ve dared to feel.

Yet in this raw and scattered aftermath,
I still believe: every soul deserves its joy,
every woman who loves, who hopes, who dares—
deserves the light of happiness, even amid the ruins.

Ms. Butterfly Genesis