The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly

Labels cling like paper tags,
defining jars and jam, and names—
But not the fire within our hearts,
nor the way our spirits claim.

Why do they ask us to explain
Who are we, and who do we hold dear?
Love was never meant for boxes,
never meant to cower in fear.

Love has no shade, no chosen skin,
no single shape or sex assigned.
It blooms between two growing souls—
a shared horizon, undefined.

Love is blind, yet sees so deep.
It is soft. It is steel. It is a flight.
It’s knowing who you truly are
and owning it in the morning light.

So let the world keep all its tags—
Our love needs none to prove it’s real.
Love is love: no more, no less,
and that’s the beauty we must feel.

Ms. Butterfly Genesis