I remember how you used to always hate having your picture taken because every photo reminded you of being stuck in that cocoon waiting for the right amount of beauty to seep through and leave this world on your back side where you’d never know just how incredible it was to go through what you did, or you’d never know just how beautiful those wings were when we slept back to back in the shape of a butterfly. The shell of that fucking cocoon was left sprawled on my side of the bed and you flew off to something you didn’t think you were ready to handle at that point and faith showed up in clogged bubbles and I just wanted to shut my minds gate long enough so I could at least clean that cocoon shell you left in my bed…but the imprint of your body is still there, and I just want to be able to remain that person for a little while longer, even though she may not even really remember herself. I’ll never fly away with you, I’m just starting to learn how to walk and maybe one day I’ll wrap myself up, cover my eyes, and think happy thoughts until I tear down those walls and shove those shells under my bed side before I leave.

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