Your heart makes a dull thump in your chest,
as red as a brick, and you lie
about everything, but only because you can.
I have never lied about anything,
but only because I couldn't.
We fit together, lock and key.
I am miserable with concavities.
I seem convenient enough.
The words burn when I swallow them.
They poison me, and there is no sugar
to make it better, no respite for my tongue.
As red as a brick, it's pressed to my teeth,
and the silence surrounds me like armor,
a defense against all the careless words
I never should have whispered in your ear.