Artwork: The Letter by Mary Cassatt
I wanted to write something beautiful for you.
A few scattered words here and there
Like mutilated arms
Trying to make sense of their existence
And breathing the air smelling like sawdust, moth eaten handkerchiefs
Wiping off the extra marmalade from your chapped lips
and your tears when wanted me to write something beautiful for you
and burnt broth
Bubbling away in glorious ignorance
Just like you had left them
Motionless. Fragile. Dead.
The commas never fall into place. They cannot hear me, I think.
But I hear the coffee machine every morning
Brewing coffee without you
And Barney wagging his way into the garage
The yellow is wearing off. So I painted over it on Monday and Tuesday and every other day
I am clumsy with full stops.
I never know where to put them.
But sometimes they write me. as a beautiful woman]
But mostly as a sad, miserable failure.
And I let them. Like I let you.
I want to write something beautiful for you, something made out of a dream
But I cannot dream tonight. I cannot dream without you.