Perfect Teeth (bp coyle)

You made that joke tonight, the ones you always make about how your Mother’s new husband looks like Kojak with an eating disorder. You laughed. I forced a smile. You find yourself way more amusing that I do.

I couldn’t help noticing your teeth. They are so white. So perfect. How much work did you have done on them when you were a child? How much money did your Daddy have to pay for it all? They annoy me with their perfection

In fact, things about you are annoying me more and more these days. Like the way you are lying here, sleeping beside me. So deeply. So soundlessly. You never have trouble dropping off. No bad dreams ever disturb your night. You don’t hog the duvet, don’t kick me if I snore. You lie so still. Perfectly still.

I find myself comparing you to other girls I have known. Holly, who had a gap in her front tetth and a charmingly quirky smile. Jean, who couldn’t close her eyes unless she’d finished half a bottle of vodka. Avril, who hardly ever smiled at all.

They were all so much more interesting than you.

Perfection is pretty boring.

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