Your words
when repeated to myself

taste like sulphur
taste like fire and smoke

like ash
like dirt
like being deserted

Your words
when heard for the first time
sound like nails on a chalkboard

like a child banging on piano keys trying
to play a familiar melody but failing

Your words
remind me of a rule I once thought to be true until I grew a little older

Sticks and stones may break my bones
and all wounds from words eventually heal

but your words are different

Your words
fester

they infect

Your words rot over time leaving the kind of stench you can taste.

The result of your words

is the kind of suffering that not only leaves

an aching in my chest
but a stinging in my eyes
and a burning at the soles of my feet

telling me to run
but before I take off

you speak

Your words
taste like honey
feel like clouds

Your words
sound how love should  sound

Your words
stop as you lock the door.