| *loolaville _poetry | |||||
| Perpetually I'm perpetually trying out for cheerleading with red and purple butterflies inside my stomach. And when you're really close to me, they flutter around so intensely you'd think they were trying to eat one another. It's wreaking some kind of half- horrible half-wonderful havoc on my system until I can hardly breathe and I'm trembling like a bare tree in the winter wind. I could perpetually hold your hand in mine, just because of the way that it feels. I think everyone should hold your hand for at least five minutes, touching the soft, slender stretch of skin across your bones. Maybe I could charge them something like a dime so I could purchase every pocket watch in existance and string them up in a tiny room. We'd hang out there in corduroy with all the time in the world to release those butterflies one by one. |
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