Life notes · Poetry

The ELEGY of a broken husband

With eyes that glazed like the moon

She was my muse. My Molly.

Sometimes we never understand what love is till we loose it.

She spoilt me and I devalued her.

The breakfast she made, prepping our boys even before it heats 6

She pampered me and I, just revelled in it.

Arrangements spot on. My dresses where ready even before I thought about it.

You understood what I needed and provided them.

Your work looked slow and light and I confused it for easy.

Didn’t think to say thanks for everything done, cause to me thanks would be for when a gift is handed

Your hour’s in the kitchen burning down and building up recipes parfums still parade our home.

If I had given you a break, made you rest this could have been the perfect fairy tale.

You became my mum and I some how forgot you weren’t the maid

Though I didn’t openly made it that way…….I could have at least made you feel like a queen.

Your letter still reads…cheekily it says

“Morning love, I understand your still sleepy but breakfast is in the Microwave and it times out right about now. Your shirt and shoe is polished,iron and ready. Worry not about the boys, Janie will be here to get them ready. Hope you know I love you. Hey, don’t forget your vitamins. Molly loves you.”

Such where the contents of the letters you wrote for me but, this one I hold dear ,and read it to you on our every anniversary.

It’s been 10years Molly, since you died. My guilt and LOVE which was never portrayed hunts me terribly.

My only courage are the boys.

I wish I did drive you to the train station that morning. Somehow the little things you asked of me I felt my self so occupied to do. I am sorry, so sorry that sorry doesn’t cut it.

The man arrested for your rape and murder is out. His free Molly.

People say move on, but how can I when I don’t even know how to begin.

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