Thursday, September 6, 2012

writing: foretaste

i hold you in the space between my teeth and the back of my throat
i know this taste
i know this part
i know what's next
i curl my tongue around the acrid bite
and put off the inevitable
knowing it'll sting on the way down
but there's always hoping that it won't
that maybe this time it won't
there's always the hoping

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