Sullied Threads From Yesterdays
There's a pile of sullied threads on the floor
from muddied quarrels of our yesterdays
Remnants of life that we stripped bare
like sheets from a bed needing laundering
It's a hoard of soiled and frayed toggeries
too foul from words to be properly cleansed
I thought of trying to bury the lot of it
but shoveling the hurt left blisters on my hands
Invasive memories haunt many of my dreams
They are suffused deep within my thoughts
An inured scent of us will linger, unbleached, abused
like worn jeans as long as they remain unwashed
How long before I can ignore them lying there
gathered and rumpled in an alcove in my mind
Dark stains that only bring me pain and discontent
Too tainted to be purified by dirty human hands
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