By
T.K. Flicek
An envelope in my hand,
this letter returned from you.
Penned in red ink the words,
“I hate you!”
My message unheard
the soft tender words unsaid,
because to you
I now am dead.
Perhaps I waited too
long to say,
how much I miss you
or beg you to stay.
Whatever your reason
I shall never know.
For you have a new life,
and I am alone.
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