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 ******* 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