PS No PS
Tue, 18 Nov 2014
Light has bleached the ink – once
the deepest shade of violet to a paler
shade of ochre...
stealing that scrap, that remaining remnant
I had of you; those final words
telling me goodbye.
A few letters remain dotted here
and there. Demented ‘M’s and last-ditch ‘Y’s
still serve to remind me your eyes were the colour
of a bruised, summer sky.
Yet there’s one thing hasn’t changed –
that flourish at the end, beneath your name...
almost as if
your pen, instinctively etched the paper
with an indelible stroke of longing...
as if knowing time was too short
for a postscript.