This is mine and Kitty15's entry for the Poetry Pairs contest.
Dear husband,
Home is quiet without you.
Maybe you don't even call it home anymore,
sleeping with your new mistress
on her earthen bed.
I might lose you to that distant country,
You clearly prefer her over me,
satisfied as the cat with the cream
while our life is milk.
My life. My home.
But whatever you call it,
please come back to this place
where I am, where we used to be,
where the car keys still hang, neglected and suicidal
on their hook. They miss the way you'd grab them,
shout "let's go!" and run out the door.
Now you grab your gun.
Dear Soldier,
I could be writing to a ghost by now,
your body out there – somewhere -
riddled with bullets, blasted to pieces.
Your soul return to sender, am I right?
The dead can't call you coward
or pin the puckered feather on your breast.
And if you're not here, neither can I.
Every day I feel like I need you.
Maybe when you get a chance to stop
and take a breath, you'll need me too.
Maim me, shoot me, make me the enemy
I’d rather have you here to hate me
than to never see you return.
Dear Murderer,
You think you're getting good at playing soldier,
with your dated uniform and loaded gun.
Well let me tell you that's not how it is -
you've got your ammunition and I've got mine
but you're out of range,
Come closer, dear, closer so I can take a shot.
I feel like I'm treading water,
drowning in your letters.
You think scratching your pen across paper
once in a while is good enough for us to survive.
It's barely keeping us alive.
Dear Corpse,
You didn't reply to my last letter.
Turn around and face me, coward -
heroes don't turn their backs
on love or family.
And I grow tired of waiting for the news
that brings you back to me,
stripped of your weapon and laid out flat
in a you shaped box,
strangled by our nation's flag.
A hero wouldn't abandon me,
because heroes don't run away
And every day I try to carry on
knowing you could have chosen to stay.
