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her bloom smells e'er sweet
yet when she turns into fruit
there's a bitter taste
Sarah Aug 30
life has seasons
and I am not a flower
I am a tree
with changing colors
shedding it's leaves
loss does not always subtract
but yet, transform
Kara Shirlene Aug 22
Caterpillar cocoon
Swirling like a monsoon.
Spinning delicate threads
Wrong turn, they'll rip to shreds.

Caterpillar cocoon
Changes coming soon.
Winding round and round
Metamorphosis bound.

Caterpillar cocoon
Fragile like a balloon.
Hoping it won't pop
Before the change can stop.

Caterpillar cocoon
In the light of the moon.
Praying change within
Brings beauty in the end.

Caterpillar cocoon
Changes coming soon.
Metamorphosis bound
Look now, beauty's all around.
©KSS 8/2013
Emily Donoher Jul 21
tired of hearing talk of
butterflies       are tired
of their wings being the
object of one’s affection
and we are one          to
talk          about the skin
that dress souls like gar-
ments that we peel off
at the end of a long day
we are raw and naked
and who to see us if not
just curtains &  hollow
bathtubs               filled
with aching spines that
carry heavy souls        and
what’s the point if nobody
asks to look inside anyway?          
tired of talk of skin and form
there is so much more to see    

just ask about
Eloisa May 5
Here in this fascinating fairyland,
thousands of magical words exist.
But your kind words create
lovely metamorphosis spells.
To my friend, Peter
Laokos Apr 26
"isn't that something you
want?" she asked.
"no" i replied. "what i desire cannot be given. only by providence can that which is unattached be realized and only by letting go can it be integrated."
"well then...", she said with a smile,
"...perhaps it's time, hmmm?"
and at that she folded
in on herself
over and over
like complex origami
until she became
a butterfly.  

then she fluttered
into my
chest and took
root in my heart
like a seed.  

she grows there
now like a low moon
lover bathing in moonshine,
dripping in starlight,
changing in
the glow.
Vii HunniD Mar 26
Then Vii said,
"She filled that voidness when Vii was empty"...

Vii had a broken purple heart,
After Vii met her,
Vii melted...

She moulded Vii...

Thus my emotions have a lot of different precincts
I thought I would never change
Through all the creatures
that I have seen,
You are the most
majestic one:

Cheekbones high,
regal nose;
Scarlet lips
that make me cry.

Winter skin
framing dark eyes -
Poisonous daggers
transfixing life;

Yet, on me
that murderous gaze,
was soft and tender -
Vanished the haze

And the devilish grin
of Sin and Fun
turned into a kiss
as warm as sun.
© 03/04/2020
Lacey Clark Apr 2
I can curl up in a ball and shake and quiver. For days.
I can breathe in and breathe out toxic shame.
Paralyzed and skittish - like a stricken mutt.
My lungs feel sticky from interlaced, bright, and anxious evocations.
I am so familiar with this part of myself. I am not uncomfortable with this part of myself. This part who feels out of control and desperate for answers. Answers to a million questions - all interconnected.
Desperate for raw meaning and purpose. RIGHT NOW.
Digging for a release.

I can then,
over time,
and after a process I am very familiar with,
find that tense knot and that trapped air below the surface,
and tend to everything inside.  
It takes a lot of metacognition, warmth, logic, and compassion.
There's something really beautiful about enduring these uncomfortable moments I find myself in.
I feel the shift,
my cognitive distortions working their way to clarity,
and then the beauty that emerges penetrates my life momentarily.
Like rays of sun.

(This metamorphosis is something we do over and over and over. The awareness lies in the reflection we partake in when the 'storm has passed'.)
Therapy. My biggest tool.
Bibhusita Mar 10
Winter has faded
It is spring
Flowers dance
and bees sing

I stay suspended
devoid of haste
No need to breathe
still and braced

Silence reigns
The cocoon awaits
For the wings and
For summers gates!
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