Floss

I ran out of floss and I suppose 
that makes things easier for now but
I know this will come back to get me, 
undeniably at the worst time. 

I am hungry but 
I have no appetite. I 
wonder how many days will be 
spent like this, pretending 
to be none the wiser. Because 
food is not a comfort anymore - it merely
exists to fill my belly and there used to
be a sort of pleasure in those 
momentous feasts but
no longer. 

Half the time I come home 
to find my heart broken in two, but
usually it sits calmly.

The days we don't talk
are the hardest. I remember the story, though. 
I know that I cannot demand things 
from you. Expectations take the substance 
out of an equation. 

Anyways, it tends to be most
days that we are apart, and I 
want you at my side. 

Then there comes a time 
towards evening when my mouth 
craves something cleaner, so 
I satiate the hunger with 
a toothbrush and floss. 

But I've run out of floss.