between_the_city_and_the_stars raze i thought it was a real butterfly. perfect and dead and waiting to be found. it was a frail facsimile carved from balsa wood. such a beautiful, intricate thing. i made myself as small as i could and tried to pick it up. i wanted to put it in my pocket and take it home with me. the moment my finger-flesh made contact with the tip of the right wing, it broke. each time i touched the carving, another part of its fragile body sloughed off, until it wasn't anything anymore. if you squint hard enough, you might find what i tried and failed to save, somewhere between the guts of the city and the same sad-eyed stars that sank our sleeping bodies last night. 221227 what's it to you? who go blather from