You tried to shove the words back into my mouth
but they had already slithered into your ears
and coiled around your brain stem,
irrevocable syllables
that carry the taste of blood
on my lips,
the blood I spat out in the shower
carried no metaphors
or remnants of sympathy
no remorse for the simple truth.
honesty without hesitation,
tastes a lot like rusted iron
when the recipient
smells of a blurry night
in a hotel mini bar.