Missing Mouth

On a warm Thursday morning my mouth leaped off my sleepy face and eluded my messy apartment. It went absent for years. All the “missing” signs with $100 dollar rewards did not pay off. So I had to cope with people’s kind aid. They ate off my food bite by bite, verbalized what was on my mind, and smiled instead of me. It was awful being lipless. The joys that came with my mouth were suddenly omitted, like: Leaving smooches on people’s cheeks. Laughing, (when I wanted to.) Centering pouts to my foes. Smiling to strangers. Until one day, while reading the morning paper the headlines said that a mouth had been found lost. So I went to the center where they said my mouth was being taken care of. When I got there I was flabbergasted with what the Dentist had told me. “Your mouth needed a leash, that voiced tongue and intimidating full set of teeth. So we plucked out some of its fangs. Oh, and its Wise teeth too. You know all the commotion genius could do…” I frowned. “And that vindictive tongue! Would not keep silent. It screamed poems about licking society-inflicted wounds, self-righteousness, individuality, and those crazy things. So we chopped that off too, until it could no longer sing.” he spoke with a hiss in his voice. “I am proud to say that this is our greatest work so far. Maya, you are finally healed. This mouth was going to get you into a lot of trouble, young lady. Now, would you like your mouth back?” I shook my head with disapproval, gushed into tears and stormed home. I let my mouth go and set it free. What use would a speechless mouth have been to me?