Letters

Letters

Flowing expressively
down the rough, handmade paper,
coursing around
ink stained, fond memories,
cursively written
in a childish hand, thoughts embellished
with romantic
flicks of the quill.  A single thought,
uncomplicated secrets,
embroidered in words of unimaginable power.
Speaking silently
of desire and lust, a dream not yet reached
in immaturity
hearts are lost, broken and new lives reborn
amid triumphant
notions of celebrated togetherness
hidden buried
in frightened layers of tired loneliness,
waiting boldly
for reality to blow the hate away. Still the
words trickle
gently down the page, pooling in the corner
reclusively discordant
in a pool of disregarded and missed hope.