Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Reading between the lines,
She doesn’t think he loves
Her anymore. The little clues
Stare out at her. The slant of

Writing seems to indicate he
Loves her less or not at all of late.
The choice of ink from blue to
Black, the neatness of his hand

Has given way to untidy scrawl.
She knows his writing best of all.
She sniffs the paper for another’s
Scent, some indication that some

Other’ presence may be found
Soaked into the paper’s soul.
She holds the letter up to the light.
Some other’s fingerprint seems

There all right. She runs a finger
Along the lines, scanning each word,
Each scribbled letter, each dot
And comma. She senses betrayal

In the letter’s every line, a knife in
The back from each scrawled word.
She imagines him writing the letter
While some other woman licks his

Ear, whispering the words, touching
His hand and moving the pen. She
Sniffs the letter again. A hint of some
Cheap perfume. She sniffs once more,

Closing her eyes. She imagines what
Sort of woman wears such stuff, what
Kind of whore. She runs through her
Mind any name he has mentioned,

Any image coming to mind, any woman
Slutty enough to stink and glow.
She folds the letter slowly into neatness,
Places it back into the envelope, sits back

And lights a cigarette, brooding on her
Betrayer, but finding no other woman,
Lover or whore, within her mind as yet.

sometimes we can read too much, create a fantasy world out of thin air, grow madness like a vegetable in the garden of our wandering thoughts......then again,

sometimes we are right........enjoyed this dadio

thank you, saw, for reading & comments.

some time our imagination can run away with reality
i enjoyed this trip
thanks

thank you, snowman.