Sullied Threads From Yesterdays

There's a pile of sullied threads on the floor from muddied quarrels of our yesterdays Remnants of life that we stripped bare like sheets from a bed needing laundering It's a hoard of soiled and frayed toggeries too foul from words to be properly cleansed I thought of trying to bury the lot of it but shoveling the hurt left blisters on my hands Invasive memories haunt many of my dreams They are suffused deep within my thoughts An inured scent of us will linger, unbleached, abused like worn jeans as long as they remain unwashed How long before I can ignore them lying there gathered and rumpled in an alcove in my mind Dark stains that only bring me pain and discontent Too tainted to be purified by dirty human hands