butterfly

poetry

at last, i pick the finest flower
to bury myself into.
a lily that until now,
i admired from afar only,
the scent i only dared
to dream of — up until now...

oh, why i use its petal as a blanket,
a shield from raindrops
so hard and harmful,
to let go, let go of all of it:

the painful memories my ripped
wings have brought upon me,
the love i am unable to contain
within a world so unfair and grey,
so i let go, only to keep hoping.

hoping that by the next time
i open my eyes
the world would not be sorrowful,
that i wouldn't be so aware of self,
plain on the outside,
whilst there's a bright light
i am unable to dim
inside my being.

hoping,
that when i open my eyes
i will be a beautiful new butterfly,
with wings so strong and colourful
i'd be proud enough to unfurl.

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2026.02.11. - mirella ౨ৎ