I Washed the Sheets But Not the Memories

A cycle of poems «Your Kiss Tasted Like a Late-Night Regret»

Sunlight bleeds through empty blinds,
Cotton clean, but heart still binds.
I scrubbed the fabric, scent so bright -
But your ghost won’t leave my sheets tonight.

I spun them hard, I used the bleach,
Tried to drown what words can’t reach.
But no detergent, hot or cold,
Can wash away the love we sold.

I washed the sheets - but not the memories,
They cling like smoke in cotton seams.
Your laugh still warms the hollow space,
Your shadow fits your side with grace.
I folded clean, I made the bed -
But dreams still pull me to your head.
The fabric’s fresh, the pillow’s neat…
But you’re still wrapped around my sleep.

You’d wake at dawn, hair wild and warm,
Pull me close through morning storm.
We’d talk of nothing, just breathe slow -
A quiet world where only we would go.
Now silence fills that sacred air,
And I pretend you’re almost there.
I spray the linen, light a flame…
But memory won’t play my game.

I changed the set, bought linen new,
Sage green, soft - just like you knew
I’d try to trick my aching mind…
But ghosts don’t care what’s redefined.

I washed the sheets - but not the memories,
They cling like smoke in cotton seams.
Your laugh still warms the hollow space,
Your shadow fits your side with grace.
I folded clean, I made the bed -
But dreams still pull me to your head.
The fabric’s fresh, the pillow’s neat…
But you’re still wrapped around my sleep.

Last night I swore I felt your hand
Brush my back like you’d planned
To stay forever, soft and near -
But woke to cold and empty air.
I buried face in what you left,
Hoping time had truly cleft
The thread between your skin and mine…
But love won’t fade on laundry lines.

Maybe healing isn’t clean -
Maybe it’s learning how to lean
On absence, sharp and deep and true,
While holding what you gave me through
The fights, the tears, the silent nights…
The way you held me just right.
I can bleach the stains, I can lie -
But I can’t unlove you if I try.

I washed the sheets - but not the memories,
They bloom like ink in quiet seas.
Your warmth still haunts this empty frame,
Your whisper calls my truest name.
I made the bed, I turned the light -
But you’re the dream I sleep with every night.
The sheets are clean, the room’s serene…
But you’re the ache I’ll always keep.

So let the sun dry every trace,
Let time pretend it can erase.
But if I close my eyes and sigh…
I still feel you lying by my side.
I washed the sheets…
But not my heart.
Not the love…
That tore us apart.