We wait side by side.
Twice a day we cannot hide.
I think of your white paste,
dressing my bristles without haste.
When you touch me it’s wet.
Your minty thick texture I like to pet,
as we move together inside,
a mouth of moist and warmth, let’s ride.
It’s a dance, my bristles
and your thick, goopy whistles.
Tango we do to create a foaming,
then boom, I’m horizontal and moaning.
Back and forth, up and down,
we work together to change the frown.
What we create is so fresh, so clean
without us, breath is just mean.
We are never allowed to part.
I hope to taste you forever, my heart.
The very thought of you turns my limbic system
into a vibrating dopamine dictator, “Kiss him, kiss him!”
My dear Sense O’ Dyne,
so sensitive, so fine.
Don’t change anything, especially your
tube like shape, you move me into rhyme.
That first touch, your clutch,
you felt so new and different.
As you slowly twisted off your cap,
my excitement bore clap after clap.
The way you protect and repair,
the way I softly massage the gum,
we are an effective and perfect pair and this
will always be, way too much fun.
