Broken.

Written by hand. Typed up as is.

Less like a vase
that fell
off the shelf.
Not any sudden
crash
or
mess
to clean up.
But more
subtle.
Like a caterpillar
that eats her
way through
an entire tree.
Munching instinctually
mindlessly
doing whatever
needs to be
done to quench
the incessant
hunger
until I grow weary
and choose to rest
a while, after
creating for
myself a safe
place to lie down.
I close my eyes.
My world.
Darkens.
And eventually,
without warning.
I feel like Alice
in a house after
one too many
cookies.
The walls of my golden
chrysalis have become
thin.
To thin for the pressure
of my newfound wings.
Broken.
Torn.
A pop. First,
relief.
And panic ensues.
Cold air.
A gasp.
The unfurling
is painful
pumping blood
into all the
spaces
that have yet
to feel
anything. At all.
The unfamiliarity
of sensation.
At first…
more "what the fuck"
than fun
But eventually…
I open my
wings
to discover
what
it
feels like
to
fly.

For the ones still in the chrysalis: "surrender." hoodie · "Good Girl Grace" zip