They called her

a bee.

A busy body


from flower to flower,


on whatever stamen

was in sight.


Drawing nectar

for pleasure’s sake,

she barely spared thoughts

of cross pollination.

I observed

a caterpillar.

A tiny soul

feeding her ego

but mistaking it for growth.

Deep down she

was trying to shed layers

of unwanted touches,

waiting to be cocooned

in silks of love.


She pretended to be

a butterfly.

A majestic illusion.

Armed with ethereal wings,

she dared to soar

to heights seemingly

unattainable — carrying

burdens twice her size.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s