Her letters smelled sweet—flap adorned with her kiss.
“Nick–you haven’t responded. So, please understand this–”
“I’ll love you forever.” Her last line always read.
“I still ruffle the sheets on your side of the bed.”
I picked up the envelope and kissed her lips’ print.
“She could have been better at taking my hint.”
In the last words of our phone call, I begged. “Find someone new.”
She called back in a frenzy. “Nick, I’m waiting for you.”
Now–beaten senseless in jail, with my deafening scars.
She chose this great battle. They slid open the bars.
“Nick, I’m taking you home to our Kentucky Lea.”
She touched my heart, my soundless day.
My world is now silent with an unreachable key,
Was it her peaceful world? Or, my tranquil sea?
No–it was the stilly sun she divulged in full.
It showed through the pane and warmed my wool.
That day, she found the letters I penned.
She read them all, her brow in bend.
They spoke of gangs. It was all I knew.
My virulent world. Her poisoned brew.
She read my words of sticks and stones.
The digging dogs. The human bones.
The rotting words, like sun-baked fish.
Did it sing her song? Did It itch her itch?
“I’m not the same man, don’t you know that, now.”
I threw back the last whisky and noised like a sow.
I cracked open bottle two and leaned back in a trance.
Outside, soundless birds sang: “satan, give her a chance.”
She took my hand--placed my fingers on her throat
and sang the bird’s songs note per note.
I smothered myself in her Angelic Grace–
quickly motioned to leave, but she held me in place.
Was it her sensual smile, its jounce, its flex?
I bedroomed her in silentious sex.
She cradled me under the ruffled sheet
I felt our hearts. Her censored beat.
I pushed in slowly. “This is the devil’s gold.”
Then, the blade went red, and her flesh went cold.
