Look at the dress hanging in your closet.
Look at the stain covering half of it.
Do you wonder how it got there.
-The dress or the stain?
Neither.
The closet surrounding it.
-Would you prefer it to be on display for all to see its unwashed gore.
No.
-Should I wear it proudly to show off the cause for all of my misfortunes to commence.
No.
-Hence why I hide it inside.
Take off the stain.
-I tried scrubbing it with warm, soapy water. Then I got bleach. The only thing it did was turn the white dress blue.
Throw it away.
-If only I could carry it. The shame. For now, it'll just rot away in a closet made of steel and armor.
What about your shoes. They too sucked up the dry blood.
-They will all remain locked away. The dress, shoes, earrings, perfume, socks, and hairband. No matter the materials intended purpose, they'll all serve as one thing, a reminder.
Do you regret wearing the dress?
-No.
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Carrying a deep closeted memory. Rather than reliving it by working on it and doing what you can to fix it, you'll just lock it away. You can try but then give up once you find it takes more work than anticipated.
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
ПоэзияMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
