the backs of my teeth
are rough
rough enough to make
my tongue tip bleed
from brushing against
them
it’s too bad because
i had so much to say
and now blood
dribbles down my chin
when i try to speak
you ask
what did you do to get
the backs of your teeth
so screwed up
i tell you through
lips coated in pink
froth
it was the words
that hammered against them
while i clenched my jaw
held my peace
the acid of every word
i forced myself to swallow
staining them
eating away at them
making them sharp
and hollow
like dead coral
Words and Feathers 