Today I washed my linens for you.
Pressed and hung them out to dry-
dull, thin scraps of fabric floating in the wind like invisible lives on a line.
I lied.


There are people in those linens.
Vivid, plump, and raging.
Memories crystal clear burned into the buttons that will stay with me through hell.
The dress I wore to meet your parents-
the night we kissed and swore to never to tell-
a soul.


All the souls of all those I've loved, love, and yet to encounter.
Dancing in the wind as though they have...