The Cure: The Caterpillar
Skittering sticky sweet and sensual from the close confines of The Top, perfect pep deception from an imperfect post-Pornography, post-Pop epiphany Cure curiosity. Onomatopoeic ticks and clicks scratch as cocoons hatch, new wings stretch and bend, a heart swoons and rends. Lies and disguises belie the truth he can't quite hide - gossamer bears away what gossamer lies hold back, and she was never in his league, not really. He may be a caterpillar, but she isn't. Not anymore.
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