03 Dec
I stand in front
of the mirror
brushing my teeth
up and down
side to side.
The bristles rub
my enamel
massaging at first
then inflaming
creating friction filled
with pain. Blood
seeps from my raw
gums and mixes
with the blue
toothpaste. It drips
slowly then turns
into a flowing faucet
refusing to cease.
Rust-scented liquid drowns
the person staring
at me through the
mirror. Her blush skin
pales as the blood rushes
from her body
splashing to the tiled
floor. It drains
every last drop
until all that remains
is a pile of folded
skin left in a heap
with the toothbrush
lying on top in
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Posted by on December 3, 2012 in Poetry, Writing


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