"pulling teeth"

wiggle, wiggle
tip of tongue
on hard and bright enamel, push
and fuss and slide
and poke and pry
it's coming loose
- I knew it would!
I taste bright tiny bursts
of blood,

and tips of nerves
deep down say stop!
and go! and oh god
yes right there! Those nerves
are perverts. Call the cops

When I'm with you,
it's pulling teeth -
and pleasurable
as hell, beneath
a thin, bright sheen
of heavenly -
are you the tongue?
or is it me

and when you go,
you've left a hole
more red then wine,
and aching, dull
and nothing ever will
come in to fill
that gaping gap until
you come in wriggling
to push and worry at
my firm resolve, to work
my resoluteness loose
with force
so slow, relentless
solve a puzzle
back and forth
again

did you feel that?
of course
ah yes
the pain