No longer yours,
Annabel Lee (49 words)
* * * *
Nevermore, Dearestby Paul Alan Fahey
January 13, 1849
Philadelphia
Dear Edgar,
It is over between us. No doubt you will take to drink when you read this, but I cannot be responsible.
I want you to understand how appalled I was to read my name in print. How could you? I, who accepted your darker side, the funeral bells tolling, that damn buzzard peering down at us while we made love. How dare you discuss our affair, mention my name in every stanza? What possessed you, dearest?
Only yesterday I was in the kitchen with Flossy. Remember her? She acted as go-between when my Herbert had gout. We were careful then, afraid others would discover our midnight rendezvous in the cemetery behind St. Bridget’s. My God, Edgar, if you must, write about that cold slab up against your bare backside, just leave me out of it.