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.
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