Written as the speaker's account of a relationship's final moments, the poem begins with a kiss that already feels like decay, followed by a hurtful remark that "split my tongue apart." The couple lie close but are emotionally miles away, and the speaker admits blame: "I have fucked this up."
The central image is of words as worms. Rather than comfort, speech becomes something wriggling and unpleasant, and the speaker wants silence, even wishing the words to be eaten by birds so they can "think no more." Underneath this is grief for the little things being lost: eyes, a smile, the heart that once pressed close each night.
The mood is raw, quiet and resigned. Rather than ending in melodrama, the poem lands on a plain, painful truth. The feeling will stay in the speaker's chest, and though they wish everything could end, only "what was us" does. The calm of that last line makes it hit harder.