Metamorphosis
Everything
has always
been complicated between
us, that has not
changed.
Tell
me what
has changed then.
Say you have learned
something.
But
you say
you don’t change,
but instead you grow:
metamorphosis.
Then,
my butterfly,
I reach for
you with gentle hands.
Come.
I
tell you
I’m doing better.
But I’ve been writing
poetry.
I
search for
catharsis in you.
I have not found
it.
I
try to
open up to
you, do not be
afraid.
That
would be
the worst betrayal
you could do to
me.
But,
small butterfly,
I want to build
a bridge between
us.
This
last month
has been good.
I have missed you
dearly.
Your
hidden land,
my unforgiving ocean,
can you picture us
building?
My
hope is
a vulnerable thing.
One you can break
easily.
And
if you
do, I will
bleed but I will
survive.
I
want you,
but I don’t
need you. That I’ve
proven.
Tell
me again
about your hope
and the forgiveness you’ve
found.
Please
show me
that my hope
is not naivety in
disguise.
We
are both
meeting me like
this for the first
time,
where
I reach
for the pen
instead of the blade:
metamorphosis.
Can
I ask
you something, butterfly?
Can your love and
fear
-
coexist?
