“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

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