Clean

I fixed the vacuum. I need to throw the dirt away. I did it. I tried not to be careless. Cleaning with a vacuum. When nothing is enough. We give into the loud sounds. Loud, cleaning sounds. Throw. It. Away. It’s not that hard. Because it’s all bagged up, just for me. The dust mites tell me to. I woke up at night. I’m still living here. Everything is clean. I promised myself. Destroying. Sad. Muddy. I wish spring cleaning was light and nice. With feather dusters. And whistling innocently. I need to destroy. These thoughts. Throw the bag in the fireplace. There is nothing better on a spring morning. Along with hair, and stray pieces of string. There were other things. He left behind. His filthy footprints. I won’t remember him. He took the pictures with him. I took out the vacuum. Every night, I clean. Filth, dirt, mud, grime. There is nothing left. Muddy footprints in my mind. I howled, but the vacuum was louder. Spring cleaning, da da da. Cleaning makes things empty. He took all the pictures with him. But my vacuum is louder.