the cocoon you put me in

yesterday at a stop light. he turned right, I went forward. I didn't see him til he reached the next light. silhouette of a cowboy hat. purring diesel engine. No, I don't know that it was him but everything fit in just right. it completed the picture.

what did I look like on my bike; the bike he made for me? thick thigh high leg warmers, cycling shorts, short skirt, tight striped shirt, my orange helmet, waiting patiently at the light? did he feel anything?

I thought I felt nothing. a twinge of apprehension, longing, sadness. then gone.

I thought I felt nothing. but here I am, a day later, still thinking about it. and I haven't told anyone that it happened. it's my little secret.

so he got his car running. he'd have to, to see his girlfriend. I hated him driving. he doesn't belong in machinery. he is someone else; I am someone else; I am trying to break out of my chrysalis to let my wings unfurl and dry in the sun. I once hatched a butterfly that didn't have enough room to open. she ended up with cramped wings, useless and crumpled. she died.

is that me? where is the room to spread my beauty? how will I know when I'm ready? d asked me, "if you acted how you feel, what would you do?" I said, "I'd be cold. distant. I pretend I'm how I used to be because I don't want to alienate people." who I am inside has shifted so far that I don't know what to do with the left over space. I don't care anymore.
everything hurts and I don't care.