Poison

My tongue flicks poison

on your rose-colored words.
My iris wheels turning,
drilling holes in your brow.

Your smile slinks down my throat,
leaving slimy smug trails,
As it rolls and it grows,
Clogging the pipes where I scream.

It drops in my stomach juice
and crawls out my veins,
burning, itching, searing through
my thin film of restraint.

Now it pools in my fingertips,
Freezing doubt to my touch.
I have poison on my lips,
but you killed me first.