The Green Teeth of the House

I tried to wear the studs he bought,

but my lobes began to burn and weep.

Some gifts are heavier than I thought,

and some are secrets I shouldn't keep.

Under the sink, the pipes have turned

that chalky, sickly shade of lime.

It’s a lesson that I’ve slowly learned:

everything softens in the grime.

There’s a penny in the cup holder too,

fused to the plastic by a syrup spill.

It’s a dull, brown eye staring at you,

waiting for the world to sit still.