i know i’m not supposed to admit that i’m nervous
but those nerves
they’re eating and burning
but i’m gonna harness
those nerves and spread
that energy into wings and
i’m gonna tell you this
but it’s so rarely true.
those wings are in my stomach and they’re beating out
a song sticking in my head until i can’t hear
anything else.
like creatures
hunched into the shelves of my ribs
they fly
and carry me higher with them.
i’m fine.
just a little airborne.
never yet on drugs,
though plants are my dear friends, since i might be one
too a wallflower a girl said they are
boring
dull
full of fault for playing their own portrayal
and here i stared, my mind staging its own betrayal
because i do have petals. petals in the shape of wings
and those wings deep inside of me
beating
gently and softly into a storm.
i’ve only sat in the bathroom stalls once or twice,
just to relearn how to breathe.
i’ve almost risen more,
this week my mom asked if i’ve been feeling anxious lately
and finally
i could say no.
i’ve never cut lines to let the butterflies out.
but i’ve written them down.