We lay in bed on a lazy Sunday morning
with shades drawn and lights out.
She closes her smoky eyes and tilts her head back
for a yawn. My right index fingers darts towards her face
as if by second nature, shoves itself into her uncovered mouth
in an attempt to tickle her tonsils, maybe make her gag.
It's a game I've played for a long time.
She bites down hard, harder than ever before
but I can't let out a sound.
When I finally get my finger back
I see the red indentations left by her flawless teeth
between my first and second knuckles
like temporary reminders of a permanent pain.
It's a game I've played for a long time, but still haven't perfected.
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