Letters from nobody

Bright orange envelope,

A proper letter like in the olden days,

With a stamp and hand written.

With, what looks like proper ink

From an ink well, maybe a feather.

It has got my name and address

But no return address at the back.

I listen no ticking,

I touch and sniff it

And think a card, maybe.

It is not my birthday

Nor any other day warranting a card.

Some advertising,

A joke,

A ticket to the theatre, from Seb?

Why don’t I just go in,

Make some coffee and inspect

Instead of speculating.

The excitement grows,

I never get post,

Just the odd official thing once a week or two,

Nothing much, recycling material mostly.

But this bright orange envelope

At the end of January has a promise

Of happier times and no more coats and gloves.

The stamps tells, it’s been send locally.

I don’t recognise the hand writing.

Who would send me a card,

In a bright orange envelope

If they just live down the road.

All this doesn’t make sense.

I treat myself to the lift for a change.

The steam of the coffee is thawing my nose.

I get ready to open the envelope

Will do it with a kitchen knife

To make the cut nice and neat.

And inside a card,

With the words

Hi sweetie how is life?

Not much to go on,

A prank, a secret admirer,

I forget about the card,

It is there on the mantel piece,

The bright colour

Cheers me up no end.

The mysterious message gives me goose bumps.

Until the following Thursday,

When a similar bright orange envelope

Is waiting for me.

This time I rip it open,

There and then.

A picture of me smiling,

Day dreaming at a café.

But I was there with Lauren,

Quick phone call to check where she is

And off I run

Towards the taxi stand.

She has already bought me a drink

And I push the picture towards her.

She looks at me and smiles,

Hugo my new boyfriend.

Likes to take pictures.

Does he send them in orange envelopes?

Does he send weird messages to your friends too?

Then she breaks down and

Explains she has broken up with him,

And since then he follows her around.

When his other commitments allow him

And bombards her with pictures.

Horrible stuff, of himself

Or mutilated body parts

She doesn’t know what to do,

We go to the police and

She texts all her friends

To check if he has bother others too.

Sometimes No is the hardest thing to say.

and to hear and accept.