my tongue

The other girls place their tongues on pretty little places on the grooves of the roof of their mouths, articulating words so eloquently. Mine sloshes around sluggishly. I could blame my nearly premature palette for the words I throw up, jumbling misheard sentences. Usually I just keep my mouth closed, maintaining my forbearance as I swallow my tongue. Other times I just want to cut it off. I find futility in the languid linguistics that fall loosely from the tip of my tongue, as do others. I have kept silent for weeks now, except for the essential words I force myself to say,rehearsing them a few times to make sure I get it right. I preoccupy the muscle by slipping it in the mouth of my girlfriend. She is the only  one who finds beauty in these verbalized thoughts, we push our tongues against each other's. Her lips part at the touch of my kiss as we both submit to desire.