The words are there
coins
weighing down my tongue
Birds, humming
fluttering behind my jugular
frantic trapped
choking for air,
mine.
Awkwardly large
in my mouth
my tongue fumbling
words stuck in my teeth
leftover, but not the right ones
I spit them out
acid, venom
sizzling holes through the fabric
of the silence between
us
All I can say is
why the fuck
is all of this
so
difficult?
(cool, pale night)
the right ones come later
paper thin, delicate
bleeding ink printed on dissolving rice paper
slicing my tongue
my mouth full of tears
they wanted to speak.
their salt coats my tongue,
not yours.