All Of Them

I suppose there were ways,
and perhaps still are,
you could bring out
the worst in me. Always
pulling and extracting,
as though every word were
a tooth I didn’t want to lose,
but how you wanted
all of them. And perhaps
that was the problem.
I wasn’t willing to give
while in the middle of so much
lack of communication,
because it always left me
guessing for the right word.
Later, after I had almost
forgotten (you), I fell in love with
my Dentist, because he could
somehow listen for all
the words I couldn’t say,
and as he cherry-picked them off
my teeth, he saved every one of them.

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