flames licking across pale cheeks marked with sunny constellations. she smiles, she smiles so wide you're worried her fragile face will crack and the brain she's so scared of will be exposed. it's broad and its cosmic and if a person contained galaxies, this girl did. she's the taste at the back of your throat, the musky one that never goes away. she's the burn of smoke in clean lungs and the tang of green fruit and she's her. she's space and she's dark guitar riffs. she's the lyric of every love song and the scratch of ink pens on passionate letters and you don't know how you're going to manage this feeling, this supernova that overwhelms you and bursts when she glances at you with warm eyes. oh her eyes. the lashes that frame them -nothing poetic but beautiful to you- and the ring of gold round her wide irises and the purple bruises underneath and the way they convey that she's not quite okay and they way you try and emulate it but your eyes are mud and your feelings are buried
