[Verse 1] She comes with the cold and something in me still opens the door. I hate that I know the sound of her step. I hate that I wait for it. There’s a tremor in her kindness I can already feel under my skin. I tell myself this time I’ll walk away. Then she looks at me and the decision is gone. [Verse 2] She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes hold up every broken promise I’ve ever made to myself. I soften anyway. I always do. Part of me wants the storm to stay, just so I don’t have to face what I become when it ends. [Chorus] Edith cuts me open and I let her. I take the ragged marks and swallow the cry. When the darkness thins and she lays her head in my lap, trembling like she might break, I forgive her. Even while another voice inside me is already counting the cost. [Verse 3] Some still call it love. I know the real names: gravity. habit. the need to keep bleeding for something that won’t be held. When she’s calm I almost believe I could leave. Then I feel her weight against me and the leaving becomes another lie I tell myself until morning. [Final Chorus / Refrain] Edith burns quietly now. The coal under her heart still glows. She tells me the siren has gone, but she lives in the corners of my mind— soft as fur, dangerous grace. And when she rests her head against my lap again, I forgive her. I always will. Even as the part of me that wants to survive keeps asking why.
