in a room full of butterflies

i am clipped 

forgiven and privileged 

in private consoles.

my cocoon smells like

nightingale grass who's eyes

are still closed from

my screaming.

i have scratched my lungs to breathe

you in and my acid from your stiff swearing

leaves numb but fragile 

stains.

i am now as severed as these paragraphs;

separate and

loud

and

loved.

 

carry me to the moon

because I fell apart and my shadow 

wanted a clear suicidal breath.

i locked my hair.

i loved you.

i fall behind.

i am not lost

i am just untangling

my wings.

then, my fairy

we can continue our

garden of empty walls

and full poems.