Batch of letters

by Mark

Dear Sam,
I’m sure you know, yet I never
Let the words fall from my mouth
Into your monitor.  

Left with all
This time to think
Thoughts just tingle
Throughout in tortures ways.
With 6 by 8 all I have left.
Hits worse than me
Or steamed vapors
Ever can.
I loved you!
Yet; I touched your lips
And cringed with crackled nails
Splintering my thighs
Because I knew,
My lips would touch her in
I loved you!
Never knew what I had.
Hugs with soft kiss kick-starting
More than what laid below
Beating my spleen to bruised 
Yet, I needed the quick
Chases and cue sticks
Charging chalk upward
Behind the eight ball.
Just let me see you again,
Angry or sad.

Dear Jeffery,
Why would you think to write me?
Melding myself back to our pipe dream
You without the tools to mend.
I loved you.
But, it has been six years
And you washed away with your Dirty laundry
Pampered with puce oil ornamenting the collar.
I loved you.
We battled, breaking bottles decomposing
Till entwining love drunk battering rams.

This was no life Jeffery,
Jousting with a pendulum beneath our feet
Fires in a flask to feverish for embrace.

Six years
Hearing from you now,
Gnawed at horizontal scars left on my wrist
Wrenching off flaks of skin, my dandruff in the wind
Re-witnessing footage left forgotten, news strips
Strung on lines before my face.  
Why would you do this to me?   
I have taken steps away
Averted myself from our past
I did love you
But not anymore.
 We have a baby girl
Age of only Six
Slender with your eyes.

Dear Sam,

A girl with my eyes?
Hope she has your smile
It was what drew me to you.
Let me see her
Hear her voice
Visualize what could
Have been through her.
She can free me of
My mishaps.

Does she learn at school,
Stroll out through
The park?

My mind is a
Martini constantly
Shaken not  knowing
When it is just right.
How can I be a father?
Away from you and her
All this time, confined
Away in soggy dew.

What is her name?
Does she even know
Of me?

I promise to
Change and be
No more short
Hits into my
No more fast
Lies to get
Out and
Have quick

It will just be you

Dear Jeffery,

I told you not to pen me.
All you do and ever did was make things worse
Now I have finally loosened your hold
You hang yourself back on my lobs
Dangling yourself dirtying my home.

Our daughter’s name is Emma.
She smiles with silent whispers
Walking through where salamanders

But you won’t see her ever.
Not her smile, her button eyes or
Her burgundy hair.

Her life is not your right and fight
I will to keep you away this time.
We live together with my partner
Her name is Susan, she cares for
Me in ways you could not see
Or care to dream of.

So, please do not pen again
You will not like the outcome


Dear Sam,

I will not like the outcome?
How are you threating me?
I will see you and my daughter,
My daughter who you have kept
From me these years.

I have no care of your Susan
On your new life no more
But keep me out you
May not, now that
You have something
Of mine.

I will be out
The 6th of June
Joining Emma
And you.

From your,

Dear Jeffery,

Twice you have not listened, though your
Ears have never been your best tools.
Truth be told I’ve always known of
Your lewd and lascivious ways
Sneaking out at nights coming back
With hints of lilacs. Men don’t smell
Of lilac. 

The debauchery of your ways very evident
Red rings creating halos for your nostrils
Cuts on your fingers for all those missed
Steps spreading yourself onto
My silk dress.

So I did not need you to expunge your
Tales for I already knew. 
Now I will weave a tale for you
One which I warned you will not taste
So sweet on your tonsil.

Our last night together
We bedded quickly like was the
Regular you unable to last
Then it changed as I slip
You a Roxycodone in your vodka
Vanishing you from your mental state.
Staggering along you went to conduct 
Your daily deals.

Unbeknownst to you I told Susan
Of your ways and though you
May not care of her she cares of you dearly
Her being your arresting officer
Waiting for you in the cavernous cellar
Waiting for you to carve yourself out
Into a state of controlled hysteria.

So, now you what I have known
And why you may never write
For if you do again Susan and I
Will force you in ways you can not



Mark J Blu