Member Poem

So this is how it ends:

straighten the bedsheets,

sweep up the floor--

they were never here.

Wash everything until it reeks

of detergent,

then rinse it once again

for good measure.

Bleach away the memories--

once,

    twice,

         three times

until all that's left is     blankness.

Air out your lungs

before you choke on the dust--

heartbreak is never heroic

(don't forget to breathe)

So take in the pain with a grain of salt

and come summer,

the Sun

will smile at you

through the open windows.