There were bones in the closet,
with wilted flesh that smothered rotten against the walls.
I didn’t take them out to trash.
The smell continues to linger,
attacking all senses,
despite being blended with a fragrance I dared to keep.
Sometimes we choose to stand by the awful,
It’s that pathetic human trait;
never knowing how to dispose of,
something that’s already meant to be waste.
*Written in December 2009