This is a revision of something I posted elsewhere almost a year ago.
You left and I can't ask
About her favourite colour
Abut her favourite anything.
Didn't you think I'd want to know?
I tried to ask
But you couldn't-wouldn't answer.
You had a chance and I had a right
And if not a right, a need.
A photograph is all that's left.
Not enough to know her.
You could have-should have answered.
But now it's too damn late.
from “Letters From an American”
3 hours ago
2 comments:
There is definitely a story behind these words.
It was written in anger that has since dissipated. Isn't writing a good catharsis? There may be a future blog in it.
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