charl-van-rooy-629247-unsplash

Frost clung to the ground the night I turned myself inside out,
Standing on the street surrounded by the dark.
With only my arms there to hold myself together;
I asked myself why why why, even though I already knew.
So I asked the dark instead.

I had been the butterfly; beautiful and utterly fragile.
You had been the wheel, crushing down upon me.
I tried to blame the weight upon the falling of the sky,
Anything other than you and all the things
You had put upon me.

But then the heavens opened up above me;
And I was soaked in the falling of the starlight.
I saw it for what it was; for cruelty dressed as a kind face.
That was the night I drew a line between the moon and stars.
The dark heard my vow;

Enough.

5 Replies to “71.”

Leave a Reply