Small Agony

Last night's cheap takeout,

a sudden slip, a bite

too hard, too fast.

Now there's a crater

on the side, a small raw space.

It's all I feel.

A constant hum, a dull

ache. My teeth find it

again and again,

a little pressure, a little sting.

Like I can't leave it be,

this tender piece of me.

Talking feels wrong,

like my words are catching

on the snag,

every consonant a hurdle.

And the taste, just a ghost

of metal, a memory of blood,

right there, always there.

It sits, a reminder,

of clumsy hands,

of haste,

of how easily a body

can turn on itself,

a private, wet,

unspoken complaint.