I found the deep impressions
of her handwriting on
the notepad in the drawer beside
our bed.
Her loopy cursive L's and the
swirly twirled Y's
so different from my sloppy scrawl
and misspelled words.
You werent home.
You didnt hear the shattering
of the lamp or of
my heart.
You didnt feel the blood, wet on
my feet from the shards of
broken glass.
You didnt feel the tears, wet and
sliding in defeat down
my cheeks.
Another late night for the office.
I called and let it ring. 12 times.
One ring for each year weve
shared.
A marriage, a home, children.
A breakfast table, a bath-tub, a bed.
Our newspapers, our coffee mugs and our
notepade beside the bed.
A notepad with an impression of a
writing that wasnt mine.
"Mark, Last night was beautiful. The best night of my life. I love the way you touch me. I still feel you inside me. Call when you can. Always, Jen."
Well, Mark...
Last night was the best night of my
life, too.
And I always loved the way you touched
me.
I still feel you inside me,
though making love is something we no
longer share.
And Ill love you always.
No matter what.
But the impressions
of her handwriting...
The handwriting that wasnt mine...
The impressions I had
of my faithful husband...
The impressions I had
of loving someone always...
The impressions of 12 years,
being your wife...
Well,
they just dont impress me anymore.
of her handwriting on
the notepad in the drawer beside
our bed.
Her loopy cursive L's and the
swirly twirled Y's
so different from my sloppy scrawl
and misspelled words.
You werent home.
You didnt hear the shattering
of the lamp or of
my heart.
You didnt feel the blood, wet on
my feet from the shards of
broken glass.
You didnt feel the tears, wet and
sliding in defeat down
my cheeks.
Another late night for the office.
I called and let it ring. 12 times.
One ring for each year weve
shared.
A marriage, a home, children.
A breakfast table, a bath-tub, a bed.
Our newspapers, our coffee mugs and our
notepade beside the bed.
A notepad with an impression of a
writing that wasnt mine.
"Mark, Last night was beautiful. The best night of my life. I love the way you touch me. I still feel you inside me. Call when you can. Always, Jen."
Well, Mark...
Last night was the best night of my
life, too.
And I always loved the way you touched
me.
I still feel you inside me,
though making love is something we no
longer share.
And Ill love you always.
No matter what.
But the impressions
of her handwriting...
The handwriting that wasnt mine...
The impressions I had
of my faithful husband...
The impressions I had
of loving someone always...
The impressions of 12 years,
being your wife...
Well,
they just dont impress me anymore.