Tip of My Tongue

I'm trying to spit your taste out of my mouth
With a tongue that's cut like leather to let the stuffing waft on out
Trying to iron out the wrinkles and fill in all the cracks
That run the twisted sidewalks down which I can't turn back

So I stumble into traffic amidst swerving conversations
Bisecting what was said from what was pure imagination
Or those perfect almost moments when your stare stung to my marrow
And the tightrope that I walked with you somehow began to narrow

Your shaking head on my breathless chest
In restlessness you reinvest
Then re-suppress to my duress
And dress it up with emptiness

Till farewells fade and all that's stayed
Is staid for you and a blade for me
To cut this leather like effigy
And burn the stuffing that's nothing but bluffing
Playing at longing
Masking the moments
That will always matter
That will
Always
Shatter
That will
Always
Sit on the tip of my tongue
Not spat
Nor swallowed
But held
Precarious