Tonsils!

I've been feeling like I've got tonsillitis. Or possibly laryngitis. I don't have any poems about my larynx. However, I do have one that features my tonsils.* (I've been waiting for a way to crowbar this in... Almost makes up for having SUCH a sore throat.)

Just a check-up

I could sense 

Your shape:

The unmistakable white shape of you,

As you prepared 

And then approached

While I lay,

Wordless, waiting.

You came closer

Then slowly

Bent over

To check for cavities

In my lower molars.

Your moustache twitched

As you chipped

Away at the plaque

Encrusted on the base of my incisors

You were chipping away at my heart.

My tonsils flirted with you

Slightly swollen red harlots

Inflamed and 

Unashamedly pulsating

In glistening nakedness.

‘Any problems?’ you said.

‘Ungh ungh ungh,’ I replied.

As saliva dripped

From my loose, impotent lips.

(You didn’t

Wipe it off.)

‘Take a rinse,’ you whispered.

But the taste of you

Stayed behind.

*While the tonsils in this poem are based on real-life tonsils, the context is entirely fictional; my tonsils have never, as far as I'm aware, flirted with any dentist, moustached or otherwise.