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.
