Discarded

We never forget old friends and ex-lovers, childhood homes, and college roommates.
Time sews wounds and sows them just the same.
Neglected: we live in the back of their minds among ratty clothes and leftover takeout.
We rot in fridges beside sour milk and moldy fruit.
Bury memories until the flies hatch, ants march, and death’s odor assaults the senses.
Toss us out with the trash.
We’ll be picked up on Tuesday morning; our fiery rebirth awaits.