Like an earring back flipped askew before being placed on the post I met you. I’m the butterfly and you are the jewellery, a dichroic glass chandelier fastened with silver wire. All these facts are important. Some goddess’ finger is always nudging me closer to the ear, closer to you. And I whisper, unsure if you hear me. If the gait is perfect, a glint of you swings into view, or just a refraction of your colours on neck skin. The memory of your intricate beauty keeps me. I don’t know if you even realise I’m still here.
I feel you hanging on, the grip has always been wrong, but I feel you trying to stay. I know you can’t see the way I am now. Your questions are complex, searching for answers I may once have been able to give. This heart’s desire is bread and water. Sunshine. I try to show you the light whenever I can, but some days my energy has drained. One day the compulsion won’t be there, and you’ll slip and we’ll see if I can stay up here on my own and if you’ll fall or fly away.
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