I can see the two of you
together
and I am shaken.

How does she taste?
As her voice brings back memories,
is she easier to digest?

I can read her, you know.
I know that when she has scissors in her hands,
she allows her fingertips to dance about the blades.
I know that when she’s taking herself home,
she considers making a quick stop between the tracks.
I know that when she speaks to you,
she’s not trying to help herself;
she’s trying to gain confirmation of what she already knows:
there is no way out.

I also know that, as you run your eyes through her,
your voices match a love song you once knew.

So while I wait for you to finish her,
I must know:
as her expression inevitably handles
a muddled past you’re trying
so desperately to pretend
didn’t exist,

is she easier to digest?