The Word Fell Off My Tongue

She said it from across the noise,

a word sharp enough to crack the floor.

"Beautiful," she said —

like a shard of glass dropped

on spilled beer and ash.

I froze, my chest a caught breath,

mind tripping on disbelief,

like a door half-opened,

swinging to a place I didn't want to enter.

Her voice stayed warm,

slicing the murmur of that crowded room,

but I held my silence tight,

as if speaking it might break me,

like a window cracked too thin.

I remember the taste of the word,

heavy on my tongue,

but it slipped away,

too fragile for a heart that knew only the gray.