How easily appearance changes.

Through months

And months

Of procedures.

Each month tightened,

And loosened,

Tightened again.

Only to leave my mouth

Aching,

Headache

Pulsating,

Leaving clubs early

Only to be left

Disappointed.

And the with the vision

Of obvious hairplugs

Trying to hide that bald spot.

His assistant,

Always happy.

Always smiling.

Always asking me questions.

Forgetting her hands in my mouth

And if I answer

Her fingers would be the cost.

But it all comes down

To the last day

Where he says

“Sure, why not?”

And takes pliers,

Rips each piece of metal.

From each individual tooth, and leaves.

Not thinking how you might

Never see him again.

He’ll have new patients

And you’re left with

Bright,

Pearly,

Whites.