Fireflies in a Jar

Fireflies without wings,
stripped
 by the child who needed
 a pair for dreaming
Their final containment,
 a jar, fashioned from
 sorrow        melted,
heated molten,       then blown
 into the color of your
pain

My walk, hindered by a hitch
I can't identify.
Cross dressed,     in obedience,
 and appropriate behavior
 always.

Tears,  bullets from my eyes
saturate tomorrow trying to
 smile, apologetically

I lean in, to the basket
of wicker,  made by the blind
Nothing can be heard with
one deaf ear that I haven't
said before
Soon,  I  will pay my attention
 with an abundance of
distractions because that
Is what's expected.

A convoluted mess of distortion
hangs, in air, left over
from yesterday's thoughts
Tethered by a cord
transparent in it's shade
 of blue

Fondled with fine manipulation
  by slim fingertips who guard me
 from nuisances that claims to
 know who I love

Days ago I stored my affliction
 into deep rooted bark made
 of polystyrene trees they
hold a promise to never
 decay.
 Although it wouldn't
matter
 A  conveyor belf of pain I
can gather from whenever
I want
I don't want