Death of the Caterpillar

You are like a rare butterfly  that's hidden herself away from the unforgiving  gazes of the world

You have built this cocoon around you more  for protection  and precaution 

I found your cryistalist on the cold ground and you had yet to poke out your beautiful  head

So I gently picked up your cocoon and took you home with me

On the way home I held your cocoon  close to my chest where my heart thrashed. Where the heat expelled from my breaststroke

When I got home I hung your cocoon  in the heart of my home

Everyday I sat in that room, pacing back and forth for weeks

During that time I didn't eat, I didn't sleep. I wracked with anxiety 

I knew something had to be wrong

"You should have hatched by now my love" I whispered quietly to your cocoon 

I let another few weeks go by and still nothing

So I went and gently picked up your cocoon  and it crumbled in the palm of my hands

I felt my heart leap into my throat. I was wracked with a profound  sadness

When I looked close and saw that the exclusive  rare butterfly  had died

It died from it own self inflicted  injuries

Had I showed up sooner that beautiful  butterfly  could have made it. It could have flown away with a piece of me. I could have made a difference 

Now it's taking all of me with it

So I went to the back yard and burned the dead  butterfly 

Now everyday I walk past my back door. I look through the window  and wonder what could have been

RB2.3