Cocoon

Looking backwards, I ask myself, “What was I, before I was caught?”

I wasn’t a butterfly. This cocoon isn’t going to magically transform me into something beautiful and liberated.

I watch through the gaps, others with wings, whose lives are vibrant and magnificent.

I visited them today, crawled out, and flapped around pretending to be one of them, briefly. I felt joy, and hope, and remembered myself, until it was time to return.

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The Ghost

She saw her future unravelling,

consumed by him completely

not a trace of hope

for her ghost

his words tattooed on her flesh,

cutting out an old woman’s shape

binding himself to her

he used her younger self to sew up his damaged life

until her own was frayed beyond recognition

any thought of escape severed

so she dreamed of dying in her sleep

released from unintentional cruelty

The old woman slipped out of existence

Thanking herself silently.