Ghosts in My Closet

Tonight, 

I opened my oldest, dustiest closet.

And liberated myself.

I pulled it open and ghosts flew out of the door.

I realized, I had a collection of rotten things.

Old colorful arts and crafts.

Heaps of old and long letters.

Tattered notebooks messed up to the last page.

And lots of photos.

Everything looked well-preserved,

but smelled of rat's pee.

I grabbed all those that came from him,

and reluctantly remembered.

I ripped every memory - 

teared every word,

every face, every drawing,

 until it felt good.

I then pushed the pieces 

down the plastic bag with my foot,

pushed them until it almost burst,

then tied it with a rope twice.

There.

It's ready for the garbage truck.

No more ghosts.

No more rotten things.
No more traces of him.

And there's now space

for something new

and way better.