Love’s Last Post
She feels she is tearing apart,
her heart a series of tiny perforations;
silently sobbing, tears roll down her cheek,
her pillow, a blotting pad,
mascara running, her face bears the marks
of indelible love lines;
her profile staring at the wall, she sighs,
Oh how I miss Phil lately!
Each morning was like a fresh delivery;
she yearns for his roughness on her lips,
the taste of his gum on her tongue,
he’s gone forever, affection redirected,
his love a spent penny, black
thoughts fill her head, a jumble of letters
she cannot sort, their shared love,
a virtuous memory in a virtual world,
now just love’s last post,
her heart vacant, unfulfilled, an empty mailbox,
other males seem like junk,
just flyers on her vestibule mat.
Very clever - great poem.
This is excellent. Bravo
Not sure the gum on the tongue might not be an analogy too far! An interesting postal tour de farce. . .
Not short of postmarks... well done!