PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Wrapped in a cocoon of pain,

anger, disappointments.

Shrouded by the darkness of despair,

unable to see the light.

But each tear...

each measure of melancholy mystery

forms color on my wings

bold, bright, brilliant colors.

I lift my wings from the

security of holding my center

and I stand...

refined.

Holding out my peacock colors

and tilting my head back toward the sun.

I am not as I was.

I am what I am.

Reborn

Renewed

Respected

Can you see the change in me?

My new colors cannot be missed.

But can I see their true colors?

Will I only see the black and white

in their spirit?

The hot and the cold?

Do butterflies see color?

After my rebirth

could I possibly see the truth

behind a dark soul

with beautiful eyes?

Or can I see past the unattraction

of one who has an Adonis in his spirit?

Can I see past the lies

that drain from sweet dark lips?

Or the truth that is

told by the stutterer?

Can I feel the oneness

that a new love brings?

Or will I be forever drowning

in a pool of rage that has

disguised itself as love?

Will I be able to see love

or will my eyes be blinded

by the broken vessels

from my broken heart?

As I prepare to retreat to

the solitude of my wings,

I decide to raise my eyes instead

and then I see you.

A bright red butterfly

in a black and white world.

Everything else is spinning

while you are standing still.

The only thing I see is you...

your heart, your mind, your soul.

Do butterflies see color?

Yes...

but only when I look at you.