Fault may belong to anyone, but whenever they start speaking, a couple of sharp verbal blows inevitably land on me as well.

There is a lovely blend of gentle irony and tender resignation in this couplet. The poet compares the beloved's sharp tongue to an unsheathed weapon; once fury is unleashed, it hardly matters who caused it—the lover, always standing closest, inevitably catches a stray blow. It beautifully mirrors that familiar dynamic where the one who loves you most naturally becomes the easiest target for your anger, accepted without bitterness.