Crumpled panties lay in the dusty corner of the bedroom,
a putrid scent emanates from the pile.
No sense of when or where they were last worn,
except the memory scent of lovemaking and sweat.
Worry of reminiscing this night keeps the panties
at bay in the stuffy corner to rot,
until the day they find home inside the dump,
where they will be buried
along with the arrogant men who seduce innocents,
leave marks of bodily fluids,
and stash the wretched in the dusty corner of the bedroom.
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