Metamorphosis

Stories of my nights

Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash

Tonight’s a night of transformation.
What was, is no more
if it even was, ever
and what is now
hasn’t been yet
so not really my problem.
Laying on the pavement
facing upwards, gazing deeply
into the bovine dark brown eyes
of what never was
but is coming,
I morphed into a puddle
of undefined scab.
A thin yet so crispy crust
with no childhood, no past
but crunchy, well grown
mature around the cracks,
waiting there, patiently,
for passers by to step scars
of their history on my surface
and hoping they won’t step too hard.
For their own sake, I mean.
I wouldn’t want anyone
to ruin their brand new shiny shoes
putting their footprint too deep
in what’s to come, or is not.
For this crust covers well
but if you step hard enough
till it cracks,
there’s life, ergo pus!

Alina Sileanu