I opened my mouth like last time:
jaws first; teeth, tongue, lips following.
Synchronized, highly complex reaction
to the succulent stew in front.
Where would I be today if
I hadn't opened my mouth?
Back then,
with a juice-covered tongue,
grease-soaked teeth,
and gunk-cradled gums,
words came out of me,
effortlessly tangled with chewing noises.
In that moment I spilled,
spilled so many secrets,
things only for me to know.
But I faced needs,
primordial,
everlasting.
Now I dare wonder if
I'll ever open my mouth again.