Leaving leaves the butterflies flustered and they soon drop dead, their powdered wings infecting my lungs as the farewell Gift of a parting that is shaped by imaginary borders and non-existent seasons. The further we traveled, the more they pleaded me to turn back; let them suckle on the daydreams that would sustain their parasitic vanity. Ah, the whispers of their coy deception-- no matter how much nectar they promised me, I bit my lip and watched the landscape disappear. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have refused their request to feed on my naked body as they drug me with the prospect of lies that a numbed rationality is unable to discern. Bearing the violence of their protest, I am carried away by the will of a sister oblivious to the tear of my desires.
Take me home, country road...
Torn, I bid the self I didn't know I'd lost farewell. Of the past that is only yesterday, it is now as blind as the faith of one's unseeing heart.
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