the butterfly having disappeared

my spirit came back to me

— Wafū, trans. R. H. Blyth

Wings unfolding in darkness, an echo of silence, the softest flutter, and then gone.

Shadow-dappled tuberose and black orchid, buffeted by crumpled violet leaves and ink-dipped tea roses. A glint of obsidian musk slinks beneath, woven with scorched vanilla resin, dusty myrrh, and the faintest touch of crushed blackberry skin.