I sent you an invitation
to the last meal I'll have
in days.

I signed the letter
with my own hand,
just to let you know
it was actually me.

But you've given up on me,
haven't you?
(I've already had my fair share
of abandonment).
You probably lit the invitation,
along with your precious cigarette,
on fire.

Did it cry for mercy,
that letter of mine?

Or did it curse you,
like so many of my invitations
have done before?

My guess is the latter.
"******* YOU", it yelled,
"ROT IN HELL LIKE THE **** YOU ARE".

All of the words
I never had the
courage to say.

I sent you an invitation
to the last meal I'll have
in days.

I'll dine alone,
and I'll send a letter again,
just to let you know
it's actually me.