The Bastard

There was, I remember
a solitary Paisley patterned chair,
your yellow eiderdown
and a small patch
of sky
in the corner of the room.

And each
venom tipped word
told me why
you cried your vows
to the darkness.

And the reasons
all men were bastards.

The herbal tea silvered
the afternoon air,
and I watched
the cold pearls
of tears fall
as your pain slowly burned.

I quoted Buddha-
“Hatred will diminish
those who hate”,
swirled the bittersweet amber
of your perfume
and considered the nature
of truth and consequence.