#81

get it out of me, get it all out.
press my soul against the washing board and
pray that i'll be renewed;
something worth saving,
tucked neatly, or carelessly, in a drawer in the very least.
wring my skin
so to rid it from its stains of sin
and drain my tears to be lost forevermore.

but if you can't risk wasting the soap,
don't bother trying to salvage what's left of me.
think no more of me blowing in the wind happily.
you can find new things, save the old ones only for the memories,
and you might remember a day that i made you feel.
i feel all the time when you're swinging beside me.
but Karen always said you either live in love or in fear,
and i suppose the latter got the best of me.
i know this must be really hard for you.
it's okay, i knew all along it was too good to be true.


i know, I KNOW. i got my hopes up too soon,
held you too high up on that pedestool.
but i was surprised to see how easily you jumped.
i guess it's that i'm asking for too much.
is it? too much time wasted, waiting for me to catch up?
by all means, sir,
don't risk the soap if you don't see fit,
if these stains are too deep now to make it worth it.