MistiGears

she stitched them back together, hands more nimble than a firefly flitting through the cracks in her sorrowed, broken heart, she's a commotion, a confusion of emotions, [so confused she can't recognize them anymore] a traffic light that's always stuck on amber, dewy-eyed and quiet like the first snow of winter. the way her eyes scan his body makes him feel like he's on fire, [again] he can't breathe when she talks, not with the memory of touching her in the dark and whispering, words that would be best kept secret, from everyone that they hurt and [most importantly] themselves. how he doesn't seem to feel makes her wonder how he's breaking,