I got your letter today
smiled as I lay in bed
with eyes closed
imagining,
even before I opened the envelope
what you were feeling
as you wrote everything,
even the address
guessing wrongly,
I read the harsh, black, scars
left on the page for me to find
feeling the pressure of your pen
through the paper
and ink damp upon my fingers
I wish letters came with warnings
and not just a return address
crying into my pillow
I blame you
but you can't hear me
I tear your accusations into squares
that make lacy snow-patterns
drifting upon the sheets
they cover your picture
. . . with dust



Dee




















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