I’m washing away all of my leftover meals
Every stain compressed in my clothes
Every dirt mark on my car


But can I wash away the pain applied to my broken heart?
This heart of mine has been taken for granted
Treated as a hand-me-down
Still, I’m erasing every stain pushed against the corner of a tub
Every tiny shoe print I press upon the floor
But why can’t I remove stress from my clustered mind?
A mind that’s bunched up with a thousand ideas
And life lessons
And questions
I guess I only have products that work for washable things
Like empty bottles drunk by mouths swabbed every morning
Because I’ve never heard of a broken heart being cleansed to heal
Or an overstressed mind washed to understand things clearly
I have realized
Time
Is the only detergent for those stains