the words that will burn your throat

sometimes, for seconds, she forgets herself.

maybe it's a picture, hard evidence

that she was happy once, if nothing else

your romance laced with iridescence.

sometimes, your eyes catch hers in the mirror

an endless second of lost hope and dreams

before you stopped believing in each other

before you picked her apart at the seams.

so you watch her with celery-fringed eyes

with smoke angels between your bruised, bruised lips

eden is finally burning; she sighs

and the feel of h(e)ated fingertips (and)

after all this time, empty eyes and closed doors

she still needs you; her fingers still find yours.