today i exploded

all over my everyone.

i found myself outside trying to collect the bits and pieces of me

that were still clinging

to the corners of my cheeks,

 wondering if collecting myself is also a form of hoarding….

.

 through my tears,

i spy the chrysalis.

hanging by a slender thread,

brown, black and grey,

looking like a diseased leaf curled.

Camouflaged like death Herself,

the butterfly awaits

Her becoming

having given up all hope of every being a caterpillar again.