flap your little butterfly wings in my chest, and tell me how things are improving. (no really, like you mean it this time.) sing to me, caterpillar, about how people are trying their best. with love in their hearts, somewhere so deep inside. and tell me how they’re still evil, still cruel, still shatter people like bird’s eggs in their palms and watch the blood pool on the floor. flap your little butterfly wings, and fly away from all of it. paint yourself comforting shades of pink and blue and tell me things that make sense; build up stories like scaffolding. like a haunting, like a home. kiss the places i’ve been hurt, and whisper sweet nothings as my stomach churns. i think i’m gonna be sick. i think i’m gonna lie in bed all morning, and look out at the world from my bedroom window, cast in darkened light. rest your head on my shoulder, and say you’ll stay. say you’ll put all the pieces back together with duct tape and glue. i’ll braid flowers in your hair, and it’ll be just like in the movies. it won’t hurt, it won’t ache, and i won’t cry about it later, when you fly away into the summer breeze, somewhere i can’t go. i won’t feel it, galaxies crumbling in my mind. i’ll stand there on the driveway, until i’m buried in snow.

I’m not totally sure where this came from, but I think it turned out really pretty.

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