Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis

I’ve been having a hard time finding words lately...

it’s like the letters,

making the sentences

of my intrusive thoughts…

all of a sudden dissipate,

in a puff of smoke,

when I need them

to articulate

the pain

percolating into the veins of my heart

and the fatigue

etched into the bones of my body.

My mind goes silent

and my mouth seals shut

when I try to voice it.

a journal filled with empty pages

except from the stains

of a blood filled pen.

a room with no walls

except the ones

I built so meticulously in my head-

smooth like stone

and hard like concrete.

it is the old me that has made a tomb here,

dying-

with no resurrection-

while the current me watches in awe.

frozen between

this middle ground before ascension-

this sky between the earth and moon

this calm before the storm that waters the ashes

and allows the phoenix, my soul, to form

and bloom like flowers in asphalt.

Like these blooms,

one day I will find the words

that can withstand the test of flying.

like a larvae into a butterfly

the words will undergo a metamorphosis,

when I hold the puffs of smoke close,

remembering that out of harsh conditions