The Maid, poem(124/365)

1

I would clean this place up
If I just knew
where you
Left the broom
to your heart
I looked in the closet
But there was a bunch of junk
I assume you meant to sweep up
Who broke all your dishes
I pick them up
You’re worried I’ll get cut
I’m fine
And why all the dust
No rags to find
So I ripped my sleeve
Made my way around
You panic
This is when I realize
You like the filth
It’s comforting
Clean scares you
Breath
I’m not hear to destroy
I’m the maid
And you have to learn to trust again
So please
Show me where
You keep the cleaning supplies
So that I can help
Your state of mind

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One comment on “The Maid, poem(124/365)

  1. Mike says:

    Magnificent metaphor in this clever, well written poem – well done.

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