They fell out
of an old cardboard box,
in a pile, onto the floor.
It was like that scene
from Garfield’s Christmas.
I, too, found a stack
of old love letters,
written from she who now,
as I move her out of her life,
must be obeyed;
she who I betrayed.
I’d forgotten,
(or maybe I never knew,)
how much she loved
me.
Her words tell me.
Surprise me.
Now,
nearly four decades later,
I can only stand
in the messed up
and cluttered garage
the cold, damp space
that still holds,
for a little while longer,
the life
which we shared.
There,
amid piles
of old,
handwritten papers,
scarcely daring to read
those words she wrote
decades ago,
I weep bitter tears of
sorrow,
guilt,
pain,
and deep remorse.
She’ll never know
how sorry I am.
How could she?
Until this moment,
I didn’t even know.
Tags: CyranoWriter, Emotional poetry, Garfield's Christmas, Grandma's love letters, guilt, handwritten letters, her love letters to me, hurting, I didn't know, I found her love letters, I'm sorry, Kuhns, old love letters, pain, poems, poet David Kuhns, Poetic Lament, Poetry, remorse, revolutionary poetry, romance poetry, romantic, romantic poetry, Suffering, what do you do with old love letters, Words, working through issues, www.cyranowriter.com
