abcessed

It’s that tooth rotting out again

The cycle of hurt and forgetting

A fork in the branch

And choosing inaction

Or seeming to

Having wanted dentures since age 13

Desiring the sweet relief of abdication 

That buoying force of

This body is not my own

And yet here it goes again

Conforming to my postures

And rotting

Again

As a battle cry for

Making choices 

In a bath of love.