Are not my forte
Undermine my confidence,
Expose my deepest
Insecurities, buried
Under layers of varnish.
My words
Come out wardsback
Are honey in theory
In practice, glass shards on my tongue
Are a warped mirror that
Reflects me not me
Never come out quite
Right.
That is not
Mean I what.
“What do you think?”
She asked. “Do you like him?”
No. He is not
Right for you.
A sneaky, slimy sea slug
Doesn’t deserve your gaze
His presence is like acid
Corrosive, corruptive
Decaying once strong foundations.
Snake in sheep skin
No. I do not like him.
“Yes,” I say
Smile plastered on thick
“Yes, I like him. I think he’s
Very nice.”
Glass shards
Cut my mouth, tongue, lips
Spitting blood-flecked lies.
How do I tell her
What I mean when
Wrong out come all words my
could make a mess
of everything
Words
Are not my forte.