Mementos of mercy.

I picked up the letter on
the dresser, leaving behind
a quarrel of dust -
your honeyed, maple words
are too forgiving of me.
I almost choke on your
kindness, not used to the
care and curve of each word.
Regret knocks on my door,
rattling the leaky radiator,
and I listen for your breath,
perfumed by repentance,

but only hear the death
of my own.

____________________

prompts: maple, dust, radiator