could swallow an airplane
with those butterfly eyes
flickering like they're caught
between radio stations
the brevity of ghosts
twisting off my lips
vanishing as they always do
some things are expected
a little roman finds a mark antony
and we watch airplanes
traveling into the orange forever-long
the color of goodbyes
the day expiring and losing complexion
butterflies will die
and when the C battery explodes
(the one i was told not to put in the fire)
stars will rain down
(in a 30 ft radius)
and I will be scraped and I will be burned
and I will be
happy
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