ventricles, atria and a toothbrush

I walked into my bathroom this morning, hungover as hell, and reached for my toothbrush. There is a second one in the cup, as there has been for a while. I stood there with my toothbrush in my hand and looked at myself in the mirror (puffy, dehydrated, bedhead - you know, real super attractive) and then I looked at that toothbrush. Looked at it for a while. It may just be a relic at this point. I don't know. And maybe in my not knowing, I should put it away or get rid of it. But I could not bring myself to remove it from the cup. I like it there. So I brushed my teeth and I put my toothbrush back with his. The stems crossed like legs that sometimes overlap in bed and I turned out the light.