Mustard Stains

Their love, like broken pottery

lay shattered at her feet.

The hope that they once shared

now sat in pieces.

The target of her madness,

once the center of her heart

No longer a warm place

and no soft pad.

And, like old varnish,

her thoughts began to peel

the memories

from the bottom of their well.

Like every snake

he slithered off to nowhere

while the mustard stains he left behind

would break her heart, again.

DizzyDezzi (c) 2016