A quiet exchange.
The air leaves
the space between
my eyes and your gaze.
Magnetic.
I struggle to look away.
But I do.

Iron spit –
heavy to swallow,
bitter to lick.
Rusted words
stuck behind
fear and my lips.
Tongue pierced
by muted speech – 
flavor of hesitation
savored by those
scared to speak.

The tension grows
thick with want.
You are rough,
yet smile soft.
Neck tattoo
above a tailored suit
I’d like to see off.
Still, I won’t.
Though I ought.

Remorse tastes
of acid and grit.
Clenched teeth
gnash at a chance
I dismiss.
An opportunity
woefully missed.

A deafening trade
The air sinks
as you depart.
I’m crushed by the weight
of regret.
I realize I am not brave.
Nor are you.

Inspired by:
Crafting Clarity
The Tongue Knows Rust Is Metallic