I can\'t stop myself from running my tongue along
the grooves in my molars.
a habit of my youth fueled by
curiosity, compulsion, boredom, or what other
feelings charge an eight-year-old.
To say I am not the same as I once was
would be to tear some piece off myself.
She lives beside me.
I have not forgotten her ... never left her behind.
I have simply learned to coexist sharing a room.
and when asked why the grooves
in my teeth never change
you started as if I had always been so empty,
as if I had not been the one to leave you
waiting on the bedside table like a half
drunken/forgotten/crinkled water bottle.
I hope the grooves in my teeth never change.
k.b.