Cavity

I knew you were there. 

I knew I should fix you up, 

But you didn’t hurt, 

So I ignored your presence. 

Time passes,

I reschedule my filling schedules,

I’m scared of the pain. 

So you stayed, 

Tucked away safely in the back, 

Hard to reach. 

Rot.

I tried to fix you, 

I had the faith that if I brushed hard enough you’d fix yourself. 

But foundationless faith isn’t really good for anything, is it.

You’re hinting now, 

The pain that kept me up all night when I was seven. 

The pain that led me sobbing on my feeble knees, 

Clenching the side of my mouth. 

Saline, sticky streams lacing velvety skin.

Chin up, leaning over the sink, staring into the mirror. 

Trying to find the rough, aching spot, 

So I could scratch it, rub it, pull it all out. 

But the pain doesn’t leave, 

Until the doctors go in and drill salty, bitter holes, 

Inject my gums with liquids, 

Leaving me numb. 

To ache or to be numb? 

I procrastinate. 

Rot. 

Rotting. 

Rotten. 

It hurts.