Violet Grape Purple Envelope
As I sit gazing upon the unsympathetic clock.
Wiling away these last few dread filled hours.
Stirring my tea, or is it stirring me?
Confusion reigns.
My weary eyes plummet toward the newest envelope on the oak birthed table.
The Violet Grape Purple one, fore it is pregnant with the last love filled endowments of my now ex-wife.
Before when I had the guiltless luck to call her mine.
Or am I at fault?
Either way the staring envelope is all that reminds me.
Why did you have to come in the post just as I was forgetting?
Just when I was becoming too tired to care, about her presence in my bed , in my soul.
Reap me , tear me, but please don't remind me of her.
Wildflowers and persimmons the power in her laugh.
At long last I can stand no more, I gather the mocking, accursed letter and in a rush in a chair I alight.
By the fire I strain to throw you in.
I pitch back instead, hurtling down, down.
On the floor I weep.
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