Your Words Cut Deep

Your Words Cut Deep

By: Talya Langer

You said it once—

then walked away,

our interaction ended.

You were gone

but your words

stayed.

Sharp.

Small.

Stuck

in the quiet parts of me

that never healed.

I wonder

if what you said

left a bitter taste

in your mouth,

or if it rolled off the tongue

sweet and easy—

light for you,

heavy for me.

I wonder if what you said burned in the back of your throat like hard liquor or went down smooth like an expensive bottle of wine.

I wonder if your lungs struggled to say what my ears ached after hearing.

I wonder if it was as painful for you to express as it was for me to comprehend.

Your words cut deep, leaving scratches and scars on the formerly smooth surface of my heart.

As the phrases left your lips and entered my ears, flowing from my brain down to my heart,

I broke.

The sentences were short, but the damage lasts forever.

Some wounds echo louder

when silence

follows them.