Stained

Better clean that stain before it sets. You might not see it, but they will.

The wetness spreading like a breath of wind on the air

filling the cloth until the threads feel damp every place you touch it

Should have stopped before you wept, cause you know there’ll be a smell.

That’s the other way they’ll tell how you are and what you did.

Where you bloom and what you hid.

No, not that one. The other was better.

Rub it now. Clear the spot away so there’s nothing they can say.

Too bad they’ll find out in the end. But you can’t really blame yourself.

That is just what they do. But you knew that, didn’t you?

Others have been where you are

Like a falling star burning up the night sky until the spots dance before your eyes.

If you look at it too long.

It almost sings a song. The way it whooshes past and leaves you staring,

Its light spreading far and wide, then fading.

Like that stain. See, you’ve got it now.

Rub it harder. Hard enough that your fingers turn red and stand out clear to match that wetness on your bed.

Rough against your fingers, but you can’t stop now. Not when you’ve almost got it out.

Cause you know.

If you hadn’t heard it, then it wouldn’t have gone wrong.

That song. His low dark voice filling the room until the walls closed in on you.

What else could you have done?

Stop the noise. First the song, then the screams. Then the hissing bubble of hot red ruin.

Trickling out into a flood.

He shouldn’t have done it. I understand why I said.

What was going through your head when you made that mess.

It just makes it hard, cause the memory of it remains. The scent and the damp.

And watching his clammy fists twitching madly in the air.

No, it’s not coming out at all, is it? I see that now.

I know we can’t see it anymore, but its shadow is on the floor. And in the walls.

I hear it too. Hear a stain? Yes.

You should have thought about that.

From today, every breath you take will cling like clothing in the rain.

Filled with the scent and sound of it.

You should have stopped before you wept. That pain you felt rubbed you raw.

What else could you have done after what you saw?

I understand, I said. What was ringing in your head, and what was covering your eyes.

Making your breath hitch until your chest felt so tight you couldn’t taste the air and had to let it go.

Let it all out. Let it out. Put him out.

Forever.

Should have stopped before you wept. Now there’s a stain.

Try the oxy cleaner.