butterflies

Get in the car. Take water to the maps. Avoid gas stations.
Don’t look at the flames dancing in the rear view mirror.
Go to new cities, climb on the rooftops and slow dance with your coldest memories.
Wallpaper your new home with every dusty, desperate love letter you swore you’d never send.
Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips.
Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew his name. Just promise you won’t think of embers or smoke.
Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when there is soot in your lungs.
-- Clementine von Radics, “To Girls Like Me, With Hearts Like Kindling”