It started over something small,
annoyances festered in his head,
he pulled some bricks from their wall
and said things that couldn’t be unsaid.

Does he regret what they had?
He could have dealt with it better.
As he drifted from bitter to sad,
he sat down and wrote her a letter.

On paper he could be bolder,
more honest than face to face.
There were truths he’d never told her,
laid bare in text with little grace.

He chronicled their highs and lows,
their story right up to the end.
Brutal truth dressed up in prose,
a sealed envelope he’d never send.

The breakup no longer hurts,
time’s a great healer of pain.
But he now wears long-sleeved shirts,
to hide the ink of her name.