I meant it but didn’t mean to say it
thoughts spilled into words that
never should have been
truth isn’t always necessary and
certainly not recommended, when
feelings mean more than facts
words the color of gun-gray
ricocheted off your face,
stunned in its offense
I should have stopped, could have,
but didn’t because you can’t halt
a bullet stream of words
that taste like metal, acidy and cold,
a flavor as hard as my heart
at that one moment
that may change everything forever,
no amount of sugar can sweeten the future
no amount of soap can wash this mouth
the words are gone and so are you
but I remain along with the taste of
gun-gray metal.
© Dennett 2021
In response to this Saturday prompt by J.D. Harms:
