your fingers would tiptoe across my palms, and it made me feel alive.

the first time you touched me, i figured out what the purpose of butterflies really were.
the first time you touched me, i almost believed you were trying to create an army of them,
    that they were going to break down the maze inside my head
    that i would become some disgustingly lovesick drone

i don’t know why i ever doubted myself

the butterflies don’t visit me anymore,
they’ve done their job.

my feelings are neutralised.
my body is numb.
and you hold me like the touch of another would contaminate me.
your embrace is a cage,
but one i have built myself.