when we used to speak, i found comfort in saying whatever i so thought
i looked forward to spilling the contents of my brain into the open air,
allowing you to take in the sights and sounds of the sentences my lips were forming around
when we speak now, all i feel is a glass sheet sat on the tops of my teeth waiting to shatter under the pressure
of the conversation
now, i have to be careful with what i say, otherwise,
the shards would find their way down my throat causing nothing but more pain, and more blood
now, when we speak, the words i say feel different against my tongue
they taste metallic and damaging
like lies and betrayal
rather than sweet memories and fairytales
like sugar cubes
and honey
conversation
