Tears in the chrysalis

Who knew the fury in that silent smile?
Little iceberg teeth bitten by the frost of circumstance.
Does she look to the sky, hurrying the rain to fall?
To wash away the paint on her wedding dress;
the coal in her brain or the handcuffs around her heart?
What song does she hum along to, that drifts in her world.
Staining the air around her, cloaking her against ill intent.
Like a red string around the wrist.
Drawn free from the granite and the prehistoric amber.
The carbon colouring in her eyes that repeats.
All tears mass-produced.
At the sight of the grey shadow in the distance.
The lonely cry of a wolf sent, to scare away the butterflies.


11 thoughts on “Tears in the chrysalis

  1. Granite and prehistoric amber…mmm love it:) and it’s weird to think of scaring a butterfly away….I just always think of them as constantly fluttering around. Scaring a butterflies seems nightmarish. Thanks for changing my perspective:)


  2. this was captivating – really loved all the imagery but so drawn to the amber – it keeps things locked in forever – till the proper right tool can discover – what’s hidden inside her. We don’t get to see many colorful butterflies here where I live, mostly white or yellow, I just thought about that and was wondering why. When I was younger my father said white butterflies that entered the house we our ancestors telling us people we coming to visit – maybe this was at a time before we had telephones. Really liked this for all the feelings it brings to the surface.


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