I read somewhere that a butterfly's wings are extremely sensitive. Once touched they will be rendered useless, making it impossible for the butterfly to get off the ground. That's why you should be so very careful around them, because if you're not you might end up, however unintentionally, causing their death. I don't know if it's really true, but I like the thought of something beautiful being that fragile.
I fled the house again this weekend, mother doesn't seem to have missed me although I can never be sure with her. I went to see him, mostly because I didn't want to be alone. I think he felt it. He has a way of smiling with his eyes, but I don't know whether it's a smile of pitty or compassion. Maybe it doesn't matter. He listens to me and I want to love him for it, but he makes it hard by holding my shivery hands just a little too long.
He said I want to get close to you, and I said you're not supposed to touch the wings of a butterfly.
Just in case.