Dear M

I miss you, but will telling you that change anything? When you told me you were leaving, your face tight with distaste, I felt my dismay quickly turn to anger. Why were you really leaving? Old suspicions… Whispers… He doesn’t care… Using you. No love is there.

Snap.

Then the yelling.

I am sorry.

But it is evil.

Rage.

In ME.

Irony.

I’m sorry baby.

You’re running, running, you’re running away again.

Silence, my only companion.

“Carpe diem!,” you say.

No tomorrow, no yesterday…

No grief?

No love?

I feel the most awful fear,

O Death, Impale me now with thy sharp spear.

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