Hoovering

When he’s desperate he turns me on again
I stretch out to be the length of his favorite sin
He’s ever so violently intermittent when he drains me
Yet I store his dirt in clumps and heaps without complaining
I move everything but him out of my direct path
I roll forward or backward when he passive aggressively asks
I adjust when he just wants me to suck his corners and curtains
I act smaller when he ignores me so that I am never a burden
And when he feels absolved of it all he’ll turn me off again
Putting me away next to his washing machine and rubbish bin

 

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Da Absentee says:

    As someone reading along with your story. I could be interpreting your writings to seriously. I would like to believe that what your sharing here is your “cleansing” thoughts. All that to say “i’m rooting for you to finally break his spell…”

  2. Queen Rude says:

    Thank you very much for even reading at all. The future will be some sort of art, either way.

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