Leftovers

I’m a fridge full of leftovers.

There’s some rotten broccoli in the bottom drawer

And if you open it, you can be sure it’ll smell up the entire room

like a smelly broccoli boom.

There’s some fermented orange juice on the top shelf

Bulging and ready to pop its cap

At the simplest little aggravated tap.

And if you open the freezer you'll be sure to find

A nice layer of frosty frozen freezer burn

Which has ruined any flavor of food it has spurned.

These relationship leftovers are scattered in my heart

Just waiting to cause a mess;

Ruin all relationships to leave me loveless

They linger in the laziness of disposal

You want to throw them out;

to be rid of them no doubt

But each time, it’s easier just to close the door and walk away

Deal with them some other day.

But how long til someone stops risking to open the door?