Your New Toothbrush

“Your New Toothbrush”

The cashier at the checkout asked if the toothbrush I was buying was for me.

I was going to say, “No”,

But then I remembered,

How low my energy had been through each day and night,

Until you started sending me some of yours.

And I remembered,

That before you said those ten words to me at the bottom of the stairs,

I hadn’t seen myself as a mountain that anyone would want to climb.

And I remembered,

That before I felt how softly you fit into my arms,

I was beginning to believe I was no longer comfortable with giving hugs.

And I remembered,

That before you began calling to me like birds singing in the sun-filled mornings,

My nights had been too loud to fall asleep, and the mornings too quiet to wake for.

And I remembered,

That before you let me hold you in my lap in the same way I wish to hold my 4-year-old self,

That I didn’t believe crying was possible to do with someone so close.

And I remembered,

That before you looked up into my eyes in that caring and innocent way,

I hadn’t been able to pick up a single piece of my broken heart,

Because, when I reached down, my tears made it impossible to see.

And I looked at the cashier and said,

“Yes… This one’s for me.”
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@PHiLo.poema {3/19/2024}