Letter to My Ex

Although, for a time,

I was your Ophelia,

Picking rosemary and pansies

that were not there,

And you, my Hamlet,

doubted the stars were fire,

but not your love for me.  

We drank champagne at three a.m.

And you made me bubble with delight.

But over time the taste of roses became sour.

We fizzled out like the bottle left uncorked

on the kitchen counter.

I drowned in your aftershave

and dark leather jacket.

You made my head spin fiercer than

the morning after too many drinks.

You were rough like the scraping

of your untrimmed scruff,

grasping my neck as

I gasped for air.

Suffocating in lies and

caked make up to hide

the marks you left on me.

I believed in change.

You believed in polygamy.