Your mouth fumbles When you call me baby The word is foreign. You are afraid. A mouse caught in the gaze of a snake. Will it slice your tongue if you say it too hard? Or too soft?
It rolls up your throat Pushes past your teeth with great strength Awkward and sounding slightly out of breath You mumble it between "hey' and "how are you" Squished and small Like it doesn't deserve recognition or even its own space.
You've wrapped it in fear Hoping that if you say it nicely Maybe somehow it will be less like a missile Maybe this time it won't hurt.
It is exotic to that mouth of yours. A rare commodity, A precious rock we have to excavate Our own romantic version of the sword in the stone