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What You Never Throw Away
March 10, 2013
I have been wrung
Like a worn out sponge
With no replacement under the sink.
Place me back on the sill
Beside the wilting paperwhites
In their porcelain pot.
Please allow my pain to evaporate;
Pretend it never festered
In my shallow pores.
Tomorrow, think again
Of tossing me.
Pinch my purple body
In your calloused hands.
Consider the life I have lived.
Run me under cold water,
And hot,
And grind me between your palms
In your anger
Or your grief.
Twist me, tear me,
Drain me of feeling.
But keep me here
To drink your blood,
And dry your tears.
© Daniel R., Cicero, IL
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