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Envelopes

Nostalgic and odd,
Today was the day
I threw all the envelopes away.
I kept the off-white, stapled treasures:
"Receptionist's job,"
They hissed, smooth as feathers.

I tore off the corners.
Bright organised piles
Of oddball stamps lined up like tiles.
I paused to scan the tops of pages -
No other mourners
To spend sorrow's wages.

My blue ballpoint goddess who stormed as she cried
Stopped writing one day, and the same day I died.
Unburied, this coffin lies silent and open:
My heart works fine but my mind is broken.