i was brushing my teeth when i saw your soul. i stood barefoot at your bathroom sink, leaning on the tile edge as you walked up the stairs.
"you know, i can see your soul sometimes," i said.
"oh yeah?" you said. "what's it look like?"
it was the end of the night and you shuffled across the carpet towards me. i was drunk.
"mmm..." i spat. "it's more of a rhythm actually, i think."
"a rhythm?" you said.
"yeah. so i guess it's something i can hear. it's a nice rhythm. soothing--something i'd very much enjoy waking up slowly to. but also many something with dancing potential, but not like hip hop or electronic or anything. like, floating in a waltz, making giant shapes across the room."
you were brushing your teeth now, with that awful organic toothpaste. the dark of night calls for clean mouths. you stared at my reflection, watching me fumble words. you had a foamy grin.
you have such perfect teeth. they're already so white, aligned with immaculate precision. slightly narrow. delicate, but sturdy. charming. they could slice through flesh.
you probably don't even need to be brushing them.
"do you floss ever?"
"what?" you said.
"oh, i was just noticing your soul's teeth."
we fell asleep some time later with our hands intertwined.
.
