Like excising a tooth gone bad,

All rot relinquished, 
In place of aching gums.
And I can’t help but feel empty on these gloomy summer days.
These hot and twisted nights, 
Lead more often to disaster than not, 
But we partake.
We partake again.
We make a home in those lights and aching mornings,
No mourning complete without mimosas.
Yet again, 
I remain for strict purpose of survival,
And relish in the in-between.