Posted in Poetry, Prose

Love Letters

Love letters
written and sealed
placed in a box
waiting for someone
to open it,
the ribbon
too tightly woven
around my finger
remembering,
allowing myself
to fall in love again
and read those letters
to her,

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Author:

My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

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