The Letter
He read the letter.
And in that moment He knew she was gone.
He contemplated going after her,
Contemplated his life - without her.
Lifted his glass and toasted her image to the midnight air -
Then drank to her courage.
But his longing this night could not be filled by wine or spirit.
And so he draped himself in a blanket.
Wrapped it tightly around himself
So it held him as her arms had so many nights.
And he sat down by the fireplace and dreamt her into him.
He filled himself with her image,
Listened to her voice,
Felt her touch
One last time
Then he let her go.
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