i taste iron in my mouth
the insides of my cheeks and lips picked raw
nervous animal scratchings of teeth and tongue caged in
i taste iron in my mouth and feel pinpricks in my skin
settling in all my physical signs of stress and anxiety
because as much as i try to hide my doctor can still see
the outbreaks of reddened skin betraying me
and the tiny lacerations in my soft pink cheeks
and the cracks and wear in my back molar teeth
revealing sleepless nights and sleepless days
with purple packed bags and exposed eyelid veins
and volcanic eruptions revealing emotional fault lines
best left undiscovered and lost to time
so yes, i taste iron in my mouth
because i need to be reminded what i’m made of
comforted by the constancy of continued existence
there is an insistence to pick at what i know to be real
the iron in my veins, knowing it’ll eventually heal