I curled in your love like a larva,
blind to the cage I was in.
You fed me sweet lies like nectar,
and I bloomed with the rot from within.

Spun myself in silk-built silence,
a tomb dressed up as a dream.
Your voice was a lullaby;
soft, slow, and serpentine underneath.

In darkness I shed who I was,
each memory molted and torn.
My bones turned to lace in the silence,
and my sorrow grew wings to be born.

Now I rise in the hush of the after,
light pouring through every vein.
What once broke me now blooms beneath me;
I'm a monarch born from the flame.