My heart is moldy,
filled with rotten memories I long should have removed.
Now they remain as a horrid disease,
cutting off circulation when least expected.
Most would throw out such a dysfunctional *****,
but I let it stay in hopes of a slow recovery.
With windows open, I inhale,
it cleanses my lungs, finally and fresh,
working through my bloodstream,
reviving the heart as the contamination vanishes,
though it's unknown whether it's better,
to be sterile instead of stale.