Slightly Sharper Much Less Sweet

His tongue is sharper and quicker

than any edge I have ever used

to lighten the mood

and he knows exactly where to cut the deepest

so that an intoxicating sort of resentment

pours from wounds so thin

I don’t even see them at first

cuts so deep rarely heal cleanly

but leave handsome scars

from one corner of my chest

to the other

and as ugly as the world may think they are

they remind me of him

every raised line is like a poignant remark

and every shallow crater another kiss goodbye

not too long and just bitter enough

to leave me alone in a wake of my own indignation

as I grope through the contents of our previous exchanges

like a blind man

looking through a drawer he’d never opened before

and when he returns I’ll still be looking

empty-handed, defeated

but I’ll stand up and laugh in his face anyway

as I straighten just enough to hold in front of him

my mock victory and he’ll say to me once more

let’s begin again

3 thoughts on “Slightly Sharper Much Less Sweet”

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