The Voice Poem by stephen roe

I refuse to hear her voice.
Objective words are heard,
Scraping her mouths roof
Like tiles blowing loose.

Her love letters thou I digest
Beginning with the stamp
Which I steam off, hoping to
Find one un-franked.

Then I smear the envelope lips
Into my hair,
For any saliva
That is truly her.

On flowery paper, she swears
Her love need and care.
However my name could be detached
And replaced by another

I want facts,
Not compliments.
Here the distance matched,
I savour each word and relax

I don’t recoil from the hype.
And typed its better still
(Try typing love
Whilst retaining the thrill)

Here I have each word
Begging:
Sincerely, faithfully,
On its knees


On its back.
Write again soon
With tears.