Hate Mail

Could I have been the only one to love you?
You will check the mail every day
waiting for threats from you phantom malice.
But the postman doesn’t walk that route
and there is no packaged hate.
So you start to write yourself
to prove that you’re unloved.
I watch with dimming eyes as your pitiful serpent
pursues it’s own tail and eats.
You look for love over my shoulder,
as though it had just stepped off a train.
You can barely see me now.
So nobody loves you?
I guess that makes me a nobody.
No body, no form, no substance to pull you to.
Like a child who tired of her Christmas toy,
you listlessly let me lie on the carpet and go outside
to check the mail.