I cringe when the word comes out of your mouth
-- love;
it clings like taffy and festers like a sore. I think about it
sitting in your teeth
waiting to be said,
ready at the back of your throat as if a threat,
crawling out of your lips like poison or suddenly
like a gun shot.
And then
I'm bleeding again --
(and it's you and not you at the same time)
