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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Family · #1921920
You could pull my teeth but I'd never tell you how painful life was the year I met you.
Dental work

         for José Enrique

You could pull my teeth but I'd never tell you how painful life was the year I met you. Me young and so naïve, you more certain of yourself ...and one year younger. My teeth were white and almost perfect.

They've rotted since and I've grown past my wardrobe of orange and olive shirts. Past the tight slacks your sister loaned me after I shrunk from chubby to a pale pole, a ghost clad in black on black.

More than a wall divided our beds. I had never had a brother and had no clue what to say to you. How many times did I think your family would be better off without me? Too many.

The barrier was a mix of more than culture, language and family. I almost went mute after the first two weeks. I couldn't cope and no one but your mother sensed how wrong things were. I once asked her for a tranquilizer... did you know? I knew she worried, in spite of being ill herself.

I remember your smiling face, your laughter. Too bad I couldn't have been your friend. I didn't know how to be one. Words escape me even now. The bridge to the past has rotted.

But you could pull my teeth these days. I'd trust you.

© Káre Enga [168.230] #25 November 16, 2011

for José Enrique Sibaja Montero

Note to self, earlier version: You could pull my teeth but I'd never tell you how painful life was the year I met you. Me young and so naïve, you more certain of yourself ...and one year younger. My teeth were white and almost perfect.

They've rotted since, but I've grown past my wardrobe of orange and olive shirts. Past the tight slacks your sister loaned me after I shrunk from chubby to a pale pole. A ghost clad in black on black.

More than a wall divided our beds. I wasn't use to having a brother and had no clue what to say to you. How many times I thought your family would be better off without me? Too many.

The barrier was a mix of more than culture, language, family. I almost went mute after the first two weeks. I couldn't cope and no one but your mother sensed how wrong things were. I once asked her for a tranquilizer .... did you know? I knew she worried, in spite of being ill herself.

I remember your smiling face, your laughter. Too bad I couldn't be your friend. I didn't know how. The words escape me even now. The bridge to the past has rotted.

But you could pull my teeth. I'd trust you.
© Copyright 2013 Kåre Enga, P.O. 22, Blogville (enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1921920