JULY IV MDCCLXXVI

you were attached to me like art in a museum
you were my mona lisa
and i simply was the plaque underneath

Mona Lisa

You ripped my heart out,
like the dentist ripped my tooth,
grinding at my plaque,
and cutting out my vein.
pick and flick every bit,
to make me shine again.

The dentist

Poor poor toothbrush
Precariously perched upon the porcelain precipice
Each night I push your plastic pricklies into my plentiful plaque
Only to reduce you to your perch
To ponder your pitiful plight