This is about my Grandparents. They got married in the 1920's . . When one didn't get divorced.
My Grandfather kept a diary, though he didn't know my Grandmother read it most days.
He believed he'd been trapped into marriage, for much of their time together and was very bitter . . He failed to see what she was all about for a very long time . . Not the easiest marriage . . This is about that.
Eiderdown Diary
In previous prose
The pages of my days
Payed homage to my . .
Crucified vows.
What I thought love .
Meant Ambition . . sold for scrap . .
Traded for a shotgun wife's,
Wed . locked . Bed . . .
White lies in kisses
A Mans need
Screwed two more souls
From that sanitary bed before
Work withdrew me . . .
Fridays drank frustration dry
Saturday screamed . . for Sundays relief . .
My respite found in working weeks
I drank her tears for years
Bound by habitual responses
Through disabled conversations . .
Through polite goodnights I . .
Sought Belief . . .
Yet still washed Sundays Cars
Then Pension planned retirement . .
Though Circumstance a change
My never mind Lady
Beckoned . . Persuading
The Cancer Degrading my Days away
My shadow sipped her sun
Became perfume in pages
My Eiderdown Diary
Morphine removed me
Soothed me to Bed
Time instead she said
To understand . . Then
Kissed my forehead . .
Held me dead