Metamorphosis

It itched when the first bud came

black, brown, tucked in green.

And I wore it in shame

hidden in my left rib.

It teared through skin

til it drew blood

as it grew bold.

So I started to tilt as I walked

with a branch that sprang far above.

It got covered in blooms as you spoke

and I let you steal one, confused,

that you were tender yet cruel.

And then they started to come

to bring forced tears and fake gifts,

asking for gold and immutable youth,

stealing a branch as they spoke

of a featherless bird and a girl

that morphed into a tree

waiting for the rain

to bring joy.

Then I stopped blooming so

I would enjoy all alone

the rain as it fell on

every single branch of the girl

morphed into a tree

waiting for you

to bring

joy.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s