Was I A Stepping Stone?

When every flower was tagged perishable,
You promised you’d make me durable,
Not just durable but eternal,
I never knew that material was external,
That veracious voice was silent,
And comparisons, arguments,
Would become this violent.

I, who went into blackout,
To shed light upon our dark sides,
Excuses overshadowed apologies,
You, couldn’t hide,
Now, promises are irritating,
Just like the whining sound of mosquitoes.

I, who looked beyond surging attraction,
Became an ephemeral instrument of a brand,
A thud of disillusionment,
I was just helping you to cross a muddy stream,
Was I a stepping stone left without explanations?

You couldn’t even blow a whistle,
A horn blow could have served me well,
My eardrums burst on the scream of your silence,
By the dint of silence,
I’m a stone that has cracked,
I can’t help one progress through me,
A note could have coated the moment,
But was I just a stepping stone?
As you beat your chest,
I’m beating my wings… I’ll be back!