Irony to do

Emotions put in words then stored
in corners of the cupboard also known as heart
unfold as linen, I can see the stains
of where too much was spilled,
where mould has taken over blood.

There is a silent moth
escaping in the blue of day,
and you are gone, and I am left
in dust and feather bed,
with heaps of irony to do.

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