What have the wicked mailman brought?
To this aching heart in distraught,
Enveloped from a faraway ghost,
Sending poison through the post.
My hands tremble and my heart sunk,
As I read the lines on my old bunk,
Every word seems like a lifetime,
And every line seems like a crime.
Each noun is like a cruel curse,
Condemning my life at its worst,
Every verb is like a spell,
Freezing my brain and every cell.
My eyes swell out its tears of pain,
In the evening of moist and rain,
My fingers feel her letters' curves,
Like a bee sting on my nerves.
I kissed the lipstick mark she left,
On the letter that seems so heft,
Leaving my heart with a dent,
With the last letter that she sent.
