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❛ you are a flower,
full of hue and wonder
but i am just a lonely butterfly,
seeking for an artist
to color it's white wings of snow,
i am as cold as ice.
as soon as i saw you,
my white wings of snow flapped like it never did before
"are you my artist?" my shivering lips asked,
but like a blur,
you weren't there anymore.
now i am still a lonely butterfly
travelling a random masterpiece with my white wings of snow
and my freezing, beating heart.
somehow, i tripped
and fell,
rolled all over the masterpiece
like a ball of snow,
an avalanche.
as i rolled down,
i saw the brightest colors i have ever seen.
now i've reached the end,
i stood up with pain
and descried art.
an art with the potential to be a disaster
i realized that i did not need an artist,
i just had to stand up again after falling,
remembering that my road down,
was the one that colored by white wings.
now, i am not just a lonely butterfly with white wings of snow
and a heart as cold as ice,
i am an art,
a living masterpiece. ❜
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YOU ARE READING
a journal of concealed emotions // -silvermist
Diversosmy heart wrote its unseen and unheard stories. with these stories, my heart makes love letters for anyone as it unfolds its concealed emotions. -lowercase intended 【raw; unedited; errors ahead】
