Toothpick

Love is a toothpick
That teaches you how to handle
The small things.
Often ignored, out of reach
With the flick of a wrist,
You appear
I pick and I pry.
Love is there.
The smallest of promises
It doesn’t take much,
No matter the tooth.
I taste it on my tongue
The residue of touch
Sweet and clean.
Until it’s not.
A part of me lifted
By a part of you.
The ease of pressure
Something lodged set free,
No longer stuck.
Some of the best things in life
Are often small and overlooked.
Until you suck your teeth
And realize
No one around you has a toothpick.
Love happens like that
Those who know always carry at least one.
They’ve found out just how to handle
The small things with care.