Dangerous words are the ones that slip
under our guard.
They nestle next to us at night,
and whisper treacle-sweet nothings
that trickle and slide down canals
to a dosing mind, honeying the way.
They want to ensure easy passage
for the poison kept still at bay.
They tuck us in,
fluff our pillows and our egos,
till we give them freely
those moments of sincerity.
All those genuine smiles and hitched breaths,
we suppose their value
was in their exclusivity.
We break off these pieces of truth
like our hearts are homemade chocolate,
and hand them over in pretty gift wrap.
It’s when these snakes have us so charmed
and they are sated,
that they finally snap and spit.
Their bites are full of venom,
and we see their fangs too late.
Edited version of an old poem.
