Grief

My wings take me wherever they please. They're prone to passionate leaps from one flower to another until I run out of nectar. Then they falter and I flounder. That feeling we never talk about; How alive I feel before I hit the wall. I'm thrown out of my cocoon and glide through the air in a haze of red. If I could guide my wings; if I could fly without falling. I grieve for the loss of that woman who never lived And that girl who could never exist. I am a butterfly who wishes she were a pine tree. And life goes on.