Don’t preen my wings -
I told you, even though
In the beginning I was just
a caterpillar crawling through
a sweeping field of chrysanthemums
Soft, fragile
were my dreams and hopes of
admiring the robins, as they
thrash by their nearby nest
nursing their young
as the babes chirp, beaks wide open
as their mum feeds them hope
that someday they’ll fly like robins do
I hope I can fly, someday
I told you that
the night we feast on the leaves
of Milkweeds
in hopes of growing wings
like those robins
that we admire the most
Little did I know that
You started chewing on what
was mine, my wings-
are imaginary, you said
that my hopes and dreams
to be one with the robins
are farfetched
And you chewed, and chewed, and chewed
till we grew hard and tough on self-loathing
upon the realization that your
words are always the truth that
we avoid since the beginning
when we got drunk on that
Milkweed
I admit, that you chewed
and it forced me to follow
Don’t preen my wings, I told you
that time when we hang up by the
branch of the fully grown Hawthorn
along the red, plump berries
We ghosted each other
on the shell we were forced to take
Like those hermit ***** that we used to watch
by the thorns of roses, seeing them take
the burden of one another makes us
laugh
But as we sit in silence as the
darkness of our own making envelops us,
but I was, contented
knowing that darkness
is an old friend
and you by my side
is a way - a company
to spend the time
blinded
What happened?
What happened that night when
a gust of wind flew
through us, I felt the
chill of the upcoming gale
I shouted
but you are too busy
dealing with the darkness
you’re in
Don’t preen my wings, I told you
as I detached from the branch
that we used to hangout
as caterpillars
But we don’t crawl anymore
Now I am nothing
but a fallen chrysalis
waiting for those mighty
wings of those robins
I admired so much.
I got the beak.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC
Don’t preen my wings -
I told you, even though
In the beginning I was just
a caterpillar crawling through
a sweeping field of chrysanthemums
Soft, fragile
were my dreams and hopes of
admiring the robins, as they
thrash by their nearby nest
nursing their young
as the babes chirp, beaks wide open
as their mum feeds them hope
that someday they’ll fly like robins do
I hope I can fly, someday
I told you that
the night we feast on the leaves
of Milkweeds
in hopes of growing wings
like those robins
that we admire the most
Little did I know that
You started chewing on what
was mine, my wings-
are imaginary, you said
that my hopes and dreams
to be one with the robins
are farfetched
And you chewed, and chewed, and chewed
till we grew hard and tough on self-loathing
upon the realization that your
words are always the truth that
we avoid since the beginning
when we got drunk on that
Milkweed
I admit, that you chewed
and it forced me to follow
Don’t preen my wings, I told you
that time when we hang up by the
branch of the fully grown Hawthorn
along the red, plump berries
We ghosted each other
on the shell we were forced to take
Like those hermit ***** that we used to watch
by the thorns of roses, seeing them take
the burden of one another makes us
laugh
But as we sit in silence as the
darkness of our own making envelops us,
but I was, contented
knowing that darkness
is an old friend
and you by my side
is a way - a company
to spend the time
blinded
What happened?
What happened that night when
a gust of wind flew
through us, I felt the
chill of the upcoming gale
I shouted
but you are too busy
dealing with the darkness
you’re in
Don’t preen my wings, I told you
as I detached from the branch
that we used to hangout
as caterpillars
But we don’t crawl anymore
Now I am nothing
but a fallen chrysalis
waiting for those mighty
wings of those robins
I admired so much.
I got the beak.
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