popping like strands of hair in the humidity
from the tight red rim of her ponytail holder
small loose threads bursting from her lips
the ones that appear at the corners of buttonholes
thrust into the air from the constant twitch
the nervous force with which she shoves her buttons
like anxious, too fast words
in and out again
like a magician trick
invisible and then not again
holding herself together and then unhooked
left to fall apart in front of the watching world
and sometimes i don't think she notices
the way she throws herself vulnerable
in between sentences but that rather its a habit
the way she runs her thumb along the cuff of her sleeve
and every time she meets the button
flicks it in and out like a small irritation
a symbolic constraint that restrains and contains
and she won't break free for more than a moment
but for that moment she can breathe
thats what i think when i watch her speak
chewing on the corner of her lip between breaths
telling me her secrets under the cover of the weather
and how lovely it is today
one day the buttons will burst loose
the magician will reveal his tricks
and the world will watch her turn invincible
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