the way you suffer is completely unique to you. no one can ever hurt like you, weep like you, die like you. in its singularity, there is, at the very least, awe for its chameleon-like nature. if there is beauty and love and gentleness in a wound, it is that it is distinct.

orange and black is such a stark contrast for such a delicate frame.
flutter, flutter.
the color of caution,
and the color which brings about the need for it.
flutter, flutter.
is it not difficult to live like that?
to be painted this way?
your wings fold again at that, so i think that maybe you don’t mind it so much.
you are so loved the world over,
it doesn’t matter if sirens blare,
people will still call you beautiful with ringing ears and racing heartbeats.
am i envious?
maybe so.
flutter, flutter.
the sky whisks you away.
i was hoping you’d touch my hand before you go as if to say,
“there’s nothing here for me to fear.”
i’m left to wonder if there’s a danger shades of brown evoke.

i fell in love with you because you were gold,
dazzling, brilliant, a comfort few can afford.
and i also fell in love with a silver heart,
a few less stars in their shine, but soul glimmering with humility.
i settled for second because i believed i was bronze;
the last place in a race, the dull brown of pennies
but where you saw me as tarnished brass,
i was their fool’s gold.
and you grew ever so dim that day
when they proved their weight
in so much more than you.

i ask you, rose
where you got your renowned red
your baby’s breath seem to hold theirs
and your delicate petals slowly unfurl
as if to say,
“by blooming”

i ask you, sky
where you got your horizon’s hue
and your ivory gossamer-thin clouds flesh out suddenly
your azure obscured from my view
as if to say,
“this is the color i prefer you to see”

i ask you, ocean
where you got your summery salt
and you begrudgingly lap the sand again and again
with a watery crash and a rush of sea foam
as if to say,
“would salt not rise in you, too?”

i ask you, night
where you got your pitch dark
and as stoic as you are
i see the twinkle of a diamond in your dusk
as if to say,
“if i am dim, someone else will be bright for me”

i ask you, me
where you got your callous heart;
from the vulnerable openness of a flower?
or the shyness of the sky’s expanse?
was it from the salt of a sea raging inside you?
or the stars who ignore your woeful nights
while they bask in their own glow?
and hot tears threaten to spill on my cheeks
as if to say,
“this earth, and my time on it”