HOW ARE PEOPLE SO MEAN I WANT TO KNOW
because you aren’t afraid to kiss the dirt
(and consequently dare to climb the sky)
Attraction is lost on me.
Butterflies only inhabit my body from far away;
Up close, there is not enough beating room
For them to feel both free and unified.
From behind my fluttering eyelashes
I pretend I wear a veil of batting wings.
Except this veil feels more like armor amor cannot penetrate;
Except this armor has soft spots where it harbors its destruction;
Except this soft spot ripples in a way less reliable than lightning.
The butterfly effect is lost on me.
Somewhere, a butterfly gently beats its wings and a pillar collapses.
My eyelashes catch all of the dust.