The letter stood, isolated on
the mahogany writing desk.
While I took a deep breath, drowning
in the imposing austerity her words.
“It must end now”.
I'd known for a while now:
the scandals, the kisses, the 'secret' tapes',
but hope had latched onto my heart.
Now I regarded the calligraphy with
'What must it be like for a little boy to read
that daddy never loved mummy?'