Another Sonnet-style poem, in that it's 14 lines and concludes with a rhyming couplet. It's not autobiographical. Often I like to use the 'poetic voice' in much the same way as an actor might 'inhabit' the character that he or she is playing to deliver a poem based largely on imagination.
The letter that arrived today was brief:
its message, neatly written, was concise.
The cold words, terse and factual, brought grief.
It had been redirected once or twice
for I have changed addresses as I’ve fled
my former life, attempting to forget
the angry ghosts of us, to seek, instead,
a place where I’d no longer be beset
by self-reproach, the pain of the divorce,
where I could start again, slough off the past
but, as I read the leaden words, remorse
burned through me and a self-disgust amassed
as I imagine tumours might expand
beneath the rib-cage, leaving me unmanned.
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