Washed Clean

Insignificant facts,
thoughts not put in words,
lies not told,
held closely,
unable to dispose.
Where do they go?
In hollow dark realms,
we’d rather avoid.
From time to time,
we hose them down,
hoping they’ll go away,
washed down along,
with our impure soul,
which we realize is now gone,
but pleasantly washed clean.