Sometimes his tongue is made of stone,
and glass slips out, smooth as a river;
He does not notice until it strikes & shatters
into splintering cuts upon her tenderness,
drawing blood to prove the crime.
Bewildered, he might apologize, or worse
defend his violent words with more—
but only seldom know the reasons why
that careless mouth became so harsh,
nor how to tell before the slivers bite.
It is a flaw of his own making, yet also
human tragedy: blind damage strikes,
heedless of intent or any feeling,
tearing in an irretrievable instant
new red-line intercepts across her skin
only time and unmerited grace might heal.
November 2019
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