Dirty Linens

They sit, 
she passes by;
Her dress torn at the back
Showing torn underwear
They throw back their heads
Tears pool in mockery as they laugh
Unaware that they reveal the telltale-stains of the place where their two scarred legs meet,
They throw their legs to the wind in endless mirth

I don't want to laugh at them 
My cupboard emits skeletal odours

But
How do I tell them to close their legs without betraying myself?

How do I make them see their own dirty linens without exposing my own?