The Last Thing In My Mouth

Not just a toothbrush.
It’s the final ritual before I whisper filth in your ear.
The last stroke of control before I taste what’s mine.

Bristles worn down from grit and grind.
From mornings where I don’t say good morning.
Just “Open.”

Do you want it?
You don’t deserve it.
But beg well enough,
and maybe I’ll let you clean it with your tongue.

20.00 USD 200

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