Dear wife, a forlorn husband’ letter.


#21DOL on facebook

Tenth Night.

Won’t be bad if you were a tent, if you covered at least them.

I reckon when I used to be your all, when you’d accommodate, take me in wholly like a big hall, I feel sorry for these kids, they never met the hall.. Our kids.

I kind of plea still as I make this short, would you sometime talk with our kids and not alone with your boss. It won’t be bad if they feel loved by their mum.

Your distance is wreaking havoc,
Heaven knows my discipline,talks and use of rod can’t do it all,
While you sip on coffee your son does alcohol
You got promoted at work and he’s high on drugs.

My fault? I won’t argue but would you please give us attention, I would even if it takes paying you, God knows my money is enough for us.

I’ve never requested that you not work but not at the detriment of home!

I know you pushing your career,
But your daughter, know the last place from where I carried her?
She was higher than your salary
And as you are with your work,
So was she, bathed in vodka.

You know I can’t recall well how your cooking tastes, these children? never had a taste. And I miss the intimate things, saw you and your boss the other day you know, just didn’t want to cause a scene. But all you doing, put together is one mighty big sin!

I miss the taste of cinnamon on your lips, the children don’t see you even when you are on leave, feels like we divorced already, just haven’t put signatures to refined leaves.

I’d rather you not leave, but to every thing there’s a limit, even the patience and calm of a lover, a single daddy.

From your cheeky hero, I reckon that’s what you used to call me. I love you.

©Cirphrank IWrite

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