i take all the words i wish to write down, and turn them over in my fingers. they can't be too sappy. like my ambien-fueled sentiments from middle school, some things i wish to say are too heavy and sugar laden. they mustn't be too sharp. scars remain from the strung out sentences i used to wrap around my wrists. do they rhyme?
why do i question the words that pool from my mouth? brash women like me dont think before we speak. what i say is tinged by a rusty shadow and leaves a tang in my mouth. do not ask me to take back what i have said, i couldn't stomach that.