I know better than to go anywhere near there, so, I don’t –
like a tongue feeling the space left after a tooth extraction, endlessly
probing for something I just can’t find, telling myself (now that it’s gone), I
never really needed it in the first place, even though I know I did, like
saying I do not miss a limb or can live with a heart cracked down its middle,
and still, I know not to go there, to remain distant, as aloof a she must be,
time hearing only some wounds, miles the rest, being as remote as possible not
use that side of the mouth to chew, so as not to remind myself of what is gone,
and yet, I miss it, feel the ache of it being pulled , all the way down to the
roots of my jaw, a pain diluted over time but neve erases, and best to keep;
away from those things so sweet as to remind me of what has been extract, a
sweet tooth I can’t retore.
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