VIII. Letter
April, 1909
Dearest Armand,
Night after night I have crawled into bed,
Drenched in my sheets from the tears I have shed.
I cry out for you from this grief stricken heart,
Cursing the fate that has torn us apart.
My eyes are too swollen and can no longer fight
The tears that are blotting the words as I write.
You are the only true light of my life,
I wanted to grow old with you as your wife.
Week after week I have written to you,
Sharing my dreams of the things we would do.
But somehow I've lost you along the way,
Alone in my hell now each waking day.
I've waited and waited for nearly a year,
Your only response is the silence I hear.
No letters to hold as I drift off to sleep,
No loving reminder of the promise we'd keep.
As much as I realize it's time to let go,
My feelings for you still continue to grow.
I sob as I wonder what I have done wrong,
My spirits are shattered and it's hard to be strong.
Please tell me my love, what is it I've done?
You've sent me no letters, no answers, not one.
I could not believe but clearly it's true,
What the Bishop's assistant had heard about you,
You've wasted no time in filling your nights,
And raising your decadent life to new heights.
This is the very last letter I'll send,
For I know now our love's met its last bitter end.
Not that you have any reason to care,
But I wanted you still to be aware,
That for me there will never be anyone new,
So I've prolonged my service for a year or two.
Good-bye Armand, my heart is too weak,
I will always be yours,
Forever,
Dominique
She entered the office with letter in hand,
And dropped the envelope on the mail stand.
As soon as she left, the mail clerk withdrew
The letter as Renard had instructed her to.
She put it away in her top center drawer,
Just as she did with each letter before.
Renard picked it up and later that night,
He read it and started to grin with delight.
He stood up and sporting a smile on his face,
He threw the letter in the fireplace.
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