The Poisonous Tongue

The words didn’t taste any different sitting on my tongue. Much unlike the bitter, viscous words I was used to swishing around, playing with them inside of my mouth for long enough to make a decision on whether or not I’d swallow them or spit them out carelessly, these were devoid of any weight, and they floated out breathily, with an airy and ethereal quality, so contrasting the serpent-like way I was used to speaking.

As someone who, for as long as I can remember, has used words as both my weapon and my instrument, these newfound disassociating behaviors are becoming more than just a nuisance.  I roll my eyes quickly, a physical behavior set to confirm to whomever is in my head at the current moment that I’m more than a little annoyed.

Quickly and expertly I save face. A doe eyed apology and tipsy drop of a shoulder strap and I can rest assured my venomous behavior has been redeemed and he’s back to speaking to the charismatic blonde with a sharp tongue.

It’s so sharp in fact that I can feel it slicing each of my sentences, and I swallow wine perhaps too animatedly until I can feel the words washed down and bouncing around in my stomach as if in act of protest. Ignoring the psychological and physical effects of this pyrrhic victory, I run my hands through my wavy hair and return to a state of normal conversation.

Happy to feel like my confident and easy to talk to self, I have such a good night that I nearly forget about my momentary release of my usual, vehement behavior.

It was the next morning, during pillowtalk, wherein I was reminded of the brief and bitchy snake-like behavior I had exhibited, where he told me, in between lethal kisses, that I had spoken to him

“as if I had poison sitting on my tongue”.

Swooning over his simile and ability to candidly capture the sentiment so many suitors weren’t eloquent or aware enough to speak to, I was fleetingly smitten and meandered into him affectionately.

My dueling personalities do tend to have a snake-like quality to them, characterized by hissing bitchy things poisonously and then recoiling quickly, and almost startlingly.

I took a sharp inhalation and started to think about this, my bare body sinking into my sheets limply. Naturally, there was no rhyme to my reason and just as I grew tired trying to develop one I felt his hands find me. I tried to breathe life into my limbs, and give my body a less serpent-like quality.

We spent a few minutes in this state and while his body was warm I couldn’t ignore the ectothermic feeling of the blood running cold inside of my body.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s