Bleach does not clean, it disinfects…

While sadness dusts it’s own dead skin cells
into tied together feathers from once animate objects
she thinks of pride
again and remembers how pretty he was all of those years ago
and how if he showed up randomly today that this dusting away
will matter then
to someone that she cares about and maybe he will stay for once
and sit awhile and drink sweet tea with sliced lemons
and roll her a joint and jam to her music
but then she recalls as she moves in the direction of the wind
that pride left her moons ago to be with hope
even though hope was honest about being pregnant by impatience and not him
and she wonders while she dusts why that didn’t seem to deter him
from taking on pain’s responsibility
Or why pride, who she supported before he got out of school,
would leave her pristine house in the first place…
although it doesn’t matter now that pride lives 2291.2 miles away
but after the last surface becomes reflective
time rings the doorbell and through the peephole
sadness can see that he brought flowers
and probably figures that she’s being hanging with loneliness
and is willing and down for a threesome
with the woman standing behind him, misery.
She pretends how she lives- that she isn’t home.

 

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