Using Words

She and I chat. Lightly.
The sentences are fluffed
like cotton-candy clouds;
they are
what we want to hear.
The conversation floats over our heads,
and words
slide from our mouths.

Then, she
opens her mouth too wide
and words
spill
out, the wrong ones.
Her eyes don't change as
the flying words sink
as if they were tied to
boulders.

She picks up a napkin to wipe off the
last phrase
that has begun to dribble down her chin.
She plucks the last
poison-words
from her lips.

“No offense.”