The Truth in Fire

I let words slip, like fire through the dark,

spat out in the heat of a moment’s despair.

Truth cuts deeper than a blade, leaves a mark,

a porcelain mug shattered, shards everywhere.

“Maybe you’re right,” I hurled in a rage,

truth wrapped in venom, words dripping with pain.

Now I wonder if we’re just actors on stage,

a twisted performance, our hearts left in stain.

Unspoken truths like uninvited guests,

hover in silence when arguments end.

Each crack in that mug tells tales of unrest,

and I hold the pieces, not sure how to mend.