Long-lost

I was poured into the wash
It was a colour load
but I didn’t stain.
I became diluted.

Maybe, with close inspection
you could see a slight fade
to that red bra of yours
but nothing significant.

I hate the way people use
me, on mould spores and shit,
in pools where children pee,
on your hair, which looks the same
as it did when I last saw you
twenty years ago. I have an issue
with that. You want me to write back
but I’m too busy
creating perfection.