There are these bitter pieces in my mouth.
Sworling around my tongue
Clacking at my teeth
threatening to chip them
Salty, gritty, and wet
like beach sand that’s flung into your face
by insult disguised as jest
and jest disguised as affection
and affection that’s draped in mockery
though careful attention is payed throughout this game
I look at you, with lips partly pursed
as if to say something important and true
or to catch us both with the surprise of a kiss
that decieves us both into believing that we can fix this
and instead find myself
spitting pearls at you.