the grooves of my molars

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.