The moment she left, I felt utterly empty yet my mind was overflowing with feelings. I couldn't find the courage to speak to any friend. I didn't want to burden them with my emotions. And when I did muster the courage to speak, I was at a loss of words. That's when poetry came to my rescue as my damsel in shining armor. I never realized until I attempted writing that "The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart."
My amorphous feelings found solace in the structure of poems. Poetry became a beloved friend, who would listen without interrupting, without judgement, without unsolicited advices. I began reading to learn more about her. The more I learn of her, the more there is to learn. Now I don't speak to her so often but I know she's still here. Poetry is still here.
Written for the Prosery prompt at dVersePoets by Michelle Beauchamp to use the line 'The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.' from the poem "Winged Words" by Valsa George
They all are dead
Those butterflies
That fluttered
In their stomach.
What killed them -
Lack of flowers?
Pesky predators?
Climate change?
Colorful corpses
Decorate their gut
Decomposing desire
Into graves of grief.
Yesterday night, I cried myself to sleep
While I was drafting a response
To the letter that you sent
My response was quite long
But my translation
of feelings to words
somehow felt wrong
my fingers cramped
with the effort of writing
So my eyes started watering
to lubricate my fingers
to also dilute the ink
that was drying off in the pen
I stayed up as long as I could
not knowing when I fell asleep
I woke up only when I felt wet
and my bed was floating
In my room filled with water
It seems like my eyes did not stop
they kept pouring drop by drop
as I snored away in glory
all my books were floating in the water
along with my memories of you
while escaping a nasty slip
I frantically searched
for the letter, I was writing,
for the letter that you wrote
Only 4 moist blank pages were left
with ink faded away like my tears.
