I write you a love letter. Every word that I write to you is like a needle embroidering my heart for the better.
I spill tears over my words. You know not how much my love for you burns; it hurts.
You came into my life at a time when I was in pain. At a time when looking at me was like looking at the Grim Reaper through the rain.
I beg you not to leave me dearest. It is with you that I see my life the way it ought to be; the clearest.
I spoke of you to my mother yesterday. You will not believe all that she had to say:
“Dearest Winona, you have not a thought for your mother. You sit about all day brooding about another!”
“You help me not in the kitchens. You waste your time playing with those heathens.”
“You have grieved me today child. What have I done to make you run amuck and so wild?”
“You will never be with him of that I am sure. Not only is he dumb and daft but he is also rather poor.”
Oh Charlie how her words shamed me to pieces. I had to slit her throat, cut her up and feed her to my nieces.
Charlie say you will be with me. Or else you will also end up like my mother, a part of history.
No say not you that I am threatening you. That I cannot do for I am hardly a Jew*.
I have had many hopes and dreams for our future together. So what if you happen to be my estranged brother?
This love letter I write for you dear Charlie. I have never loved like this before and I am waiting for the day when you will hold me.
These words they come straight from my heart. At first I did not know how to start.
But now these words they flow like a river. A ‘no’ from you will be in my heart a thorny sliver.
I wait for the day when you come to take me away. My feelings are so intense I think I shall soon swoon and sway.
This picture of you that I hold in my hands. It is adorned carefully by loving hands with beautiful garlands.
They say you died many years before. But I believe not in what they have to say for at the drop of a hat they could ruin my reputation; turn me into a whore.
Oh Charlie. Please come back to me.
I wait for you in the tower room. I wait for your light, but the darkness still seems to loom.
I don’t think I can last much longer. I am getting older, and not younger.
Steal away my pain my love. Make me not come to you with a handgun and a glove…
* Jews are still referred to as cunning, conniving, thieving, blackmailing scoundrels in some parts of the world.
[Note to the general audience - The images that I have posted are not my own. These have just been randomly selected to suit my poems.]
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