When she returns,
it’s never innocent.
She slips through cracks
you forgot existed,
smirk sharpened
like a blade
she’s been hiding,
waiting for the right moment
to press it against
your pulse.

Her laughter,
a quiet threat;
her touch,
a loaded gun.
She didn’t come back
for comfort—
she’s here
to reclaim
what you stole,
even if it’s just
her pride,
shattered glass
she intends to leave
at your feet.

Every whispered word
is bait,
every lingering glance
a dare.
She’s tasting vengeance
on the tip of her tongue,
and you’ve become
her favorite poison.

Be careful:
this isn’t reconciliation,
it’s reckoning.
You can see it in her eyes,
the quiet hunger
to break you open
just one more time
before she leaves again—

this time,
on her terms.