My toothbrush travels




My toothbrush,

It travels


When no one has their eyes open

Or are listlessly staring

At the slow moving

Ceiling fan.


When all are lost

In their own private

Heavens or sometimes hells.


That is when my toothbrush

Slings its bag

On its bristly shoulder

And sneaks away


Into the dark lanes

Of unknown names.


It never speaks of it

Where it went

Or what it did.

It never lies too,

It just smells.


Of beds slept in by strangers

And roses dipped in honey

Sweat dripping from armpits

Or a nose that is runny.


That is how I know.

That it sometimes goes

For when we touch

And make love

When its bristles tickle my teeth

Sometimes I smell

The dampness of the beach.



© 2011, Shweta Taneja

Pic credit: @Maf1967