Post by Ashlynn Minerva Rose on Jun 25, 2007 1:05:36 GMT -5
Secret
by Ashlynn Minerva Rose
The brick wall of lament quells down upon me,
mocking my trepidation,
of what lay beyond the aperture.
A mystical force propelled my feet yonder the entryway.
Peering into his headquarters,
I'm sorry, former,
made memories emerge from deep within my soul.
Walking towards his desk of disheveled materials,
my hand quivers outward to the first drawer I must scour.
Pulling the handle forward, I peer down into the bottom, starting my exploration.
That's how my day went on, sorting through the contents of the desk,
'till finally the last drawer I reach.
Opening it, I gasp! For what do I find?
Thousands of letters addressed to none other than I.
My shaking hand reaches forward for the letter atop the pile.
Searching it I find the date written, the day of his death,
and so I read the letter through from start until the end.
Scalding tears leak from my eyes as I collapse into the chair,
as thousands of emotions I had held back surfaced themselves then and there.
The letter fell loose from my hand and floated like a feather to the ground
with three bold words printed out in his messy scrawl.
Afraid to tell her, he was, so he wrote these letters instead,
divulging his inner most secret to nothing but paper and pen.
His secret, how extreme, for his love was not unrequited, like he thought,
but returned with a full force onslaught.
The secret that letter held, oh how it killed,
And, yet, such an empty heart it filled.
by Ashlynn Minerva Rose
The brick wall of lament quells down upon me,
mocking my trepidation,
of what lay beyond the aperture.
A mystical force propelled my feet yonder the entryway.
Peering into his headquarters,
I'm sorry, former,
made memories emerge from deep within my soul.
Walking towards his desk of disheveled materials,
my hand quivers outward to the first drawer I must scour.
Pulling the handle forward, I peer down into the bottom, starting my exploration.
That's how my day went on, sorting through the contents of the desk,
'till finally the last drawer I reach.
Opening it, I gasp! For what do I find?
Thousands of letters addressed to none other than I.
My shaking hand reaches forward for the letter atop the pile.
Searching it I find the date written, the day of his death,
and so I read the letter through from start until the end.
Scalding tears leak from my eyes as I collapse into the chair,
as thousands of emotions I had held back surfaced themselves then and there.
The letter fell loose from my hand and floated like a feather to the ground
with three bold words printed out in his messy scrawl.
Afraid to tell her, he was, so he wrote these letters instead,
divulging his inner most secret to nothing but paper and pen.
His secret, how extreme, for his love was not unrequited, like he thought,
but returned with a full force onslaught.
The secret that letter held, oh how it killed,
And, yet, such an empty heart it filled.
Hey do you play neverwinter nights?
