ABOUT LAST NIGHT

      I poured my heart out to you,like ink from a floating pen. Maybe not as much as I wanted to, but in a measure I felt was safe.
      I'm empty, maybe because I loved you too much and too deep, but look where it has left me now, out in the cold, my only source of warmth if I may call it that, was your hateful stare which I wore on my right feet as sock.
      Maybe we're meant to be, but probably not just now...
      This thing we call love, is making me float ashore off the sea of my dreams, I'm wounded and broken deep inside, but I smile to you warmly for your ego sake.
      But baby, it feels like the roof above me has caved in, you swore to protect me but I've never felt so unsafe.
      Maybe...
      I hope I'm making this throbbing pain up, But what if?, what if it was to exist only in our minds, it's ruining me. My soul is now black from all the hate you've brought my way.
      I know we're just ordinary people, but oh how my soul yearns for intense love.
      I'm sorry that you met me empty, I tried to tell you I needed time to heal, but look at me all the more damaged than I went in.
      The rain is pouring on me the hardest, because I ought to feel calm and at peace around the one I love, but I jitter down to my spine.
      You hardly even tell me how much my eyes sparkle under our room light anymore, and oh yes I dyed my hair last week Tuesday and you didn't see that too.
       I hope she makes you happy. I wish you that much.
      Our ship has divided right down at the middle and is sailing opposite directions now.
      I hoped you would be my last love story.
                                             Your Wife,
                                                Shayne.
Tom found the letter when he was clearing out his late wife's closet.