Amethyst — a poem about evolved mourning

Amethyst

Amethyst era—
another cloak of mourning,
but this one royal and regal.
Translucent and revealing—
this shroud is not just devastating,
but devastatingly sexy.

I am not the cowering child
that I was last time I loved then lost you.
I will not weaken myself to survive you
and I know I am not weaker without you.

Ultraclear armor that glistens and amplifies
the sunlight that passes through it.
Rock solid yet glasslike,
it is both amp and mic—
cavernous crystal canyons
that naturally echo
whatever I bellow.
Reality is as pageworthy
as any fiction I could have crafted,
and from here, I'll only sing songs of truth.

Crescent moon, recharge me, rebirth me.
Re-envision the original dream.
Bring to life all brand new things.
Wrap me up in silken wings.
I'll neglect to nostalgically reminisce
and regret nothing except disallowing bliss.

I will emerge from this twilight-tinged cocoon
even more beautiful than on the day I was born,
naked of the layers I once encased myself in,
liberated from the loyalty I once lived within.

Amethyst era—
violets over violence.
Chrysalis over crisis.
I'll do more than survive this.