e(nve)lope

It has to be a crocodile luau for you to cry.

If your eyes flick to faults, the faults have to be mine.

I’ll pour my heart on paper, make sure I’m the addressee.

It’ll end up with you. My ‘accidental beneficiary’.

Maybe rip that one open, like all the others.

and learn that some women just aren’t made to mother.

Accept I struggled for goodness in our goodbye

when I forgot there was me, in you and I.

I think the truth in words, honest graphemes

are little sesame seeds that bring on your allergies.

A fever dream. No intention to concede,

but then you wonder why you don’t know me.

I’m gone. I’m done. But exactly,

how many more did you plan to read?

I know you want ownership, but where did that get us?

It’s not up for debate, there’s no lease on my letters.

© Mollie Mardel