I feel the bite of my own tooth. I squeal
waking from dreams in pain. The dream will fade;
the tooth will throb inside my gum, degrade
my thoughts of love and honour -which are real
and what I want to write about – to this
a constant gentle agony. I wake
to dawn and piercing. When I fall and break
actual bone it hurts less. I can't kiss
or think of kissing which is just as well.
Love is a trouble never goes away.
This bruised sharp bud will go to sleep one day
for some years more. An anaesthetic gel
may calm its painful wisdom, which I've earned.
It's not just my own fingers that I burned.