“I don’t know how I’m supposed to pretend
you don’t turn my stomach into
a butterfly mortuary
that they flew around so fast and frantic,
all of them died.
I’m a graveyard of everything I’ve ever said to you.
You grabbed my hand in the Uber
like you had never touched another human being,
Like we’re all electricity
without a panic button.”
Extract from: Listening To Hollaback Girl And Trying To Not Text You (Because I’m Not A Hollaback Girl) – Ari Eastman