Blurred Label

The smell begins, a sickly sweet,

a faint rot no one wants to meet.

It seeps from where the door is shut,

a slow decay, a stagnant rut.

The jar sits there, I know its face,

a blurred label, time and place

long gone. What's growing, dark and deep?

The promises I tried to keep

from spoiling. Here they are, you see,

a sealed-off, dark reality.

I cannot look, I cannot dare.

Just let the darkness linger there.