Bleach
everything smells like bleach again sharp, sterile, unforgiving like someone tried to scrub a life out of the walls
I stand in the middle of it hands empty like I misplace a future and can't remember where I set it down
There used to be something here laughter in the sink your voice caught in the curtains a dent in the mattress that still remembers your shape better than I do
now it's just white too white like a lie pretending to be clean
they say starting over is a chance a fresh page a clean slate
but no one talks about how bleach doesn't just clean it erases
and I'm terrified that if I scrub hard enough there will be nothing left of me worth remembering
so I stand here breathing in chemicals and ghosts
inhale
wondering if starting over just means more learning how to disappear more quietly this time
Exhale











