77 Words (10-17-2011)

October 19, 2011 — Leave a comment

Those letters that I wrote you, the ones that I destroyed before you had the chance to read them; the words are inscribed on the folds of my brain. They’ve been stored away underneath bullet pierced blankets and less than half burnt out candles.

No one paces the floor of that attic anymore. While whispers and moonlight serenades float beneath the door, the keyhole has been filled with memories that prevent everyone, even me, from getting in.

Advertisements

No Comments

Be the first to start the conversation!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s