sweet something crawls off your tongue, cascades
sweet something crawls off your tongue, cascades over your barbed wire teeth along with the ash of your disintegrated could-have-beens. it claws across the floor, pushing away the have-beens and the should-not-have-beens that you uttered.
the have-beens allow themselves to be pushed because they know they do not matter anymore, not after this. the should-not-have-beens fight to be seen all at once, an aching pit of fallen tears, red hot and sparking, desperate to know what they mean.
behind your teeth lie the things that matter the could-have-beens, they are silent. they lie in wait, under your guard tongue and deep in your sleeping gut, wishing on every spark for escape. you have neglected them for too long. keep neglecting them as they are powerful– they can draw weapons or draw hearts– they can burn forests,
burn you alive.
