Once there was a place that I was powerful, unyeilding and hard.
Something turned rotten and that part of me was removed.
Now, when I eat, I’ve got to be careful.
I have a big, open soft spot where my favorite tooth used to be.
I called it my ‘chewing molar’.
Now, it’s gone. Likely for the better. The damn thing was huting me.
And now that it’s gone and the hole is less a hole and more of a mushy soft spot, I thought I’d be able to eat with abandon once again.
Sadly this isn’t the case.
My mouth has been effected by this change.
My mouth has experinced a loss.
The new normal?
Well, that’s a lot more sensitive than it used to be.
I’m a lot more sensitive than I used to be.
Loss and grief change us.
We can’t go back.
We need to eat our way forward.
One bite at a time -
Processed with slow and deliberate chewing.
That is unless we want to rip open our tooth holes and delight in the taste of our own blood.
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