Not too long ago,
Slightly under two months
There were miles between
Who I was outside
And who I was within.
It was dark all around
Like a wallflower
That grew only in hell
Because it fed on fire,
And hell, didn't I provide it?

Not too long ago,
I thought and not only thought,
I felt that all I was within
Was needles,
And cigarette burns
And agonising stabbing.

Until lately,
Slightly under two months ago,
I woke up
With a soul cold like my bed
And that was not a surprise
But my heart warm,
Tried to flutter and take off
Like a butterfly
That fed on winter
To welcome the spring.

And that's the cycle of life
Between the day and the night.


-- Eleanor