Scouring on hands and knees,
watching the soapy puddles
expand reason;
reflections of hope gone,
in swirling eddies.
Canvassing the expanse of terra,
where your feet purged me from denial,
I could dream a merry future from a bruise;
turn a slap into a bright tomorrow.
But there is no blood to forward the delusion,
only stains I must remove,
before my epiphany becomes public,
my cleansing complete.