The Moment I Threw Your Toothbrush Away

Confession: I’ve accidentally used your toothbrush a few times
I can never remember what color I am!

Except at your place, where obviously, I’m the pink one
“I didn’t get it cause you’re a girl,” You said

But now, I know exactly which is yours
I pick up the green one next to my blue

Clutch it in my hands like a bible over an open fire
Knowing if I let go, I’m admitting There is no God.

That turning our backs on this temple does nothing.

No more of your silly Egyptian dance by the sink
Hips knocking together, bones locking in tune
Open mouths laughing, minty kisses collecting the sound

Everything we held sacred turns to sin.

Wrapping your long arms around me from behind
Wiggling your eyebrows at our naked form in the mirror
Singing hymns into my hair.
The quirks that make up our church.

I close my eyes and try to feel you out there
Across the concrete river between us
in your basement sanctuary, maybe
you’re holding my pink toothbrush in your hand too
wondering what to do

I don’t feel you.
I used to feel you out there. Always.
Even when you were half a world away.

But believing in us is blasphemy
if you don’t believe
in me

With a silent prayer,
I let the toothbrush fall from my fingers
into the trash.