Extraction

I bit the corner of the burnt black toast

and felt the calcified structural failure.

It wasn't the crust I was tasting the most,

but the salt of a long-term jailer.

The molar I’ve ground for a decade of sleep

finally snapped like a dry winter stick.

I have secrets I swore I would manage to keep,

but the enamel was never that thick.

I spit out a pebble, a jagged white chip,

and held it there, cold in my hand.

The jaw is a hinge that is losing its grip

on the things I had carefully planned.