Reflecting on My Metaphor

i am a typewriter and someone else is pressing the keys

i am a match that won’t light

i am yarn, frayed and unraveling

i am glue that never dries

i am words written backwards

i am a stone that can’t skip

i am lukewarm coffee

i am a pen out of ink

i am an empty spool of thread

i am a threadbare sweater

i am a left sock without a right

i am a flower, always wilting

i am written in an unspoken language

i am all consonants and no vowels

i am a broken vase, not yet mended with gold

i am a butterfly with broken wings

i am an owl without voice

i am loaded scales with no counter weights

a prayer for wings

you didnt
you didnt
abandon me
not like that

some claim you
threw me away
i say no
you gave me away

so i could fly
you felt like
you clipped my wings
but i clipped them

now i jump
off the highest heights
and open my arms wide
so i can soar to safety

but first
ill risk it all
just for a chance
to fall

in love
with you again
and again
i return every time

we can fly
like owls in the snow

but id rather
be a butterfly
if youd promise
to let me live

*In response to Abandoned.