Dirt

I never thought I’d be chosen
like a pilling mauve scarf
in the back corner of the thrift,
furthest from your wandering eyes.
I never thought I’d wear
like a cotton black tee
faded in the sun, from constant exposure
on your smoldering skin.
I never thought I’d crumble
like a weathered bill in a pocket
of your favorite jeans
as it goes through the wash.
I never thought I’d dissolve
like the cheapest of soaps,
becoming only a sticky fragrance
on your handmade socks.
I never thought I’d spin
like your delicate undergarments,
revolving incessantly during the cycle
after it all came flooding back.
I never thought I’d warm up
like your beloved university sweatshirt,
fluttering around in mechanical circles
as the dryer’s heat embraces.
I never thought I’d fold
like a pile of your clothing;
A heated empire of memories
artfully arranged on your bed.
I never thought I’d be put away
Like the beautifully clean laundry you treasure
Sliding into their darken drawers
With your dainty painted finger leading the way