Elle sentit son corps tousser par dégoût. Cette brosse à dent était bleu la sienne pourtant était verte. Elle avait utilisée celle de.. qui donc? Aucune idée. Elle cracha et se rebrossa les dents quelques fois correctement avec la sienne.
I scrub away at my teeth, hoping that I can scour away the poison. That I can fix what has been broken. I rinse and spit and stare at my reflection, baring my teeth. They remain as stained as ever. This time, not with coffee, but with blood. I never meant it to come to this.
“Hurry up!” The teen girl pounded on the bathroom door. “I gotta get in there and brush my teeth!”
The white-painted door creaked open and the head of a small boy popped out. A superhero toothbrush dangled from his mouth and toothpaste dripped down his chin. “Wait your turn,” said the boy before slamming the door shut and locking it.
My mom tells me every night to make sure I brush my teeth with a tooth brush before I go to bed. I never want to but I always do because I know it will do me good.
He picked up his toothbrush and scowled…why does mine have to be so weak and hers is so strong? He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. He loved the orgasmic pain that came from brushing his teeth and gums with a hard-bristled brush. He picked hers up, and began to scrub. FINALLY. His mouth felt bruised but clean.
I didn’t know I brushed my teeth two often. I heard that you were meant to brush your teeth twice a day, so I figured you could do it more often. I didn’t realise it was a problem when I found myself brushing ten or fifteen times a day. I didn’t realise it was a problem when I resorted to brushing when I an encountered a problem. I didn’t know it was OCD.
It’s dark in the cabinet. The only time I get out is in the morning and at night – if he remembers, that is. This morning he didn’t rinse me quite enough. Crusty toothpaste in your bristles can be quite uncomfortable.
It was still here. His toothbrush. The bristles frayed, in need of replacement. Tiny specks of red dotted the surface. He always brushed too hard. Red staining the sink. Red staining his memory. It was still here.
My little girl loves brushing her teeth. But she has yet to grasp the fact that toothbrushes shouldn’t be shared. If she sees one on the counter, it’s open season. I find it amusing that she has both good and really bad oral hygiene at 3 years old.
hey man i need a fix
and i’m aching for it
the nervous system nervously requires it
hands shaking body making
me desire it
and i can’t stand up without a sense of entirety
i need you and i want to be in your arms
share a toothbrush take a shower holding hands
all that bullshit
i’m addicted to your bullshit
and even though you lied
i don’t want the end of it.
I hate it when my husband accidentally uses my toothbrush. He sometimes forgets which one is his and uses whichever one he grabs first. Then when I go to brush my teeth and notice that my toothbrush is wet, I freak. I think it is so gross to use the same toothbrush as my husband. He, though, thinks it is funny to watch me be grossed out. Then I throw my double used toothbrush away and insist I get a new one. I have started using super girly colors to, hopefully, help him remember which is his and which isn’t. My next step will probably have to be hiding my toothbrush from him. This way there is only his for him to grab.
He hadn’t noticed it until the next morning. Standing in front of the mirror, Trev first glanced over his hair, which as rumpled from sleep. Sexy? he wondered. Then he examined blackheads straining to become zits on his jawline, a stain of unknown origins on his sleep t-shirt, then a speck of something on the mirror itself near the bottom. Only when he reached for his own toothbrush did he see the one resting on the sink ledge, bristles pointing straight up. It was pink. It was Suzanne’s.
Elle sentit son corps tousser par dégoût. Cette brosse à dent était bleu la sienne pourtant était verte. Elle avait utilisée celle de.. qui donc? Aucune idée. Elle cracha et se rebrossa les dents quelques fois correctement avec la sienne.
I scrub away at my teeth, hoping that I can scour away the poison. That I can fix what has been broken. I rinse and spit and stare at my reflection, baring my teeth. They remain as stained as ever. This time, not with coffee, but with blood. I never meant it to come to this.
“Hurry up!” The teen girl pounded on the bathroom door. “I gotta get in there and brush my teeth!”
The white-painted door creaked open and the head of a small boy popped out. A superhero toothbrush dangled from his mouth and toothpaste dripped down his chin. “Wait your turn,” said the boy before slamming the door shut and locking it.
My mom tells me every night to make sure I brush my teeth with a tooth brush before I go to bed. I never want to but I always do because I know it will do me good.
He picked up his toothbrush and scowled…why does mine have to be so weak and hers is so strong? He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. He loved the orgasmic pain that came from brushing his teeth and gums with a hard-bristled brush. He picked hers up, and began to scrub. FINALLY. His mouth felt bruised but clean.
I didn’t know I brushed my teeth two often. I heard that you were meant to brush your teeth twice a day, so I figured you could do it more often. I didn’t realise it was a problem when I found myself brushing ten or fifteen times a day. I didn’t realise it was a problem when I resorted to brushing when I an encountered a problem. I didn’t know it was OCD.
It’s dark in the cabinet. The only time I get out is in the morning and at night – if he remembers, that is. This morning he didn’t rinse me quite enough. Crusty toothpaste in your bristles can be quite uncomfortable.
His toothbrush was still there… along with all his other things. It’s like he’s never been gone. I miss him.
It was still here. His toothbrush. The bristles frayed, in need of replacement. Tiny specks of red dotted the surface. He always brushed too hard. Red staining the sink. Red staining his memory. It was still here.
USE YOUR TOOTHBRUSH 2 TIMES A DAY. K, bye
My little girl loves brushing her teeth. But she has yet to grasp the fact that toothbrushes shouldn’t be shared. If she sees one on the counter, it’s open season. I find it amusing that she has both good and really bad oral hygiene at 3 years old.
hey man i need a fix
and i’m aching for it
the nervous system nervously requires it
hands shaking body making
me desire it
and i can’t stand up without a sense of entirety
i need you and i want to be in your arms
share a toothbrush take a shower holding hands
all that bullshit
i’m addicted to your bullshit
and even though you lied
i don’t want the end of it.
Brush clean your mouth.
Feel the fuzz leave and be replaced by smooth porcelain.
It is a simple pleasure.
I hate it when my husband accidentally uses my toothbrush. He sometimes forgets which one is his and uses whichever one he grabs first. Then when I go to brush my teeth and notice that my toothbrush is wet, I freak. I think it is so gross to use the same toothbrush as my husband. He, though, thinks it is funny to watch me be grossed out. Then I throw my double used toothbrush away and insist I get a new one. I have started using super girly colors to, hopefully, help him remember which is his and which isn’t. My next step will probably have to be hiding my toothbrush from him. This way there is only his for him to grab.
I must brush my feelings like my teeth,
I must cleanse them of their dirty thoughts and of their dirty meaning..
I must be clean again, new, fresh,
I must be who I wish again.
He hadn’t noticed it until the next morning. Standing in front of the mirror, Trev first glanced over his hair, which as rumpled from sleep. Sexy? he wondered. Then he examined blackheads straining to become zits on his jawline, a stain of unknown origins on his sleep t-shirt, then a speck of something on the mirror itself near the bottom. Only when he reached for his own toothbrush did he see the one resting on the sink ledge, bristles pointing straight up. It was pink. It was Suzanne’s.