dirt, and the like

 

Like cracks in the porcelain

And Glass in the sand

Like muddy footprints on a clean floor

bloody scrapes across a hand

like dirt splattered on a window

or a fungus sickening a healthy tree

like a cough in a quiet room

or a deafening scream piercing the silent night

your memory plagues me

it strangles my happiness

and chides forth my tears

like a disease of the mind

your voice is the screech of nails across a chalkboard

your touch like sandpaper across my skin

your memory plagues me

a stain in a pristinely white shirt

and a burning hate

left behind

burning a hole in me

your memory

is an ache in my bones

a pain in my temples

and a jitter in my heart

it plagues me

a disease of the mind

and heart

and a yearning in the body

incurable by the past or future

but we wash away the dirt

clear the broken glass

heal the bloody hands

bleach the tainted cottons

say goodbye to the dead

and walk away.