The letter...
I had written it with deep feelings...
Never sent...
Never given...
It lay in a wooden and glass encasement...
The person who it was meant for
Doesn't care for me anymore
So I must burn the bridge that connects me to the past
I slowly unlatch the door
My heart cracking with every sharp sound of the door opening
I shakily grasp the letter
The scent of my cologne still there...
The memories, once loving but now painful
In my hand,
I look to the letter
Addressed from me...
To her...
I grab a yellow lighter from the table and walk downstairs
The letter now crushed in my fist
The wind rages outside
So I stay inside for a moment
I activate the flint simultanious to the butane gas
I watched as the flames lick the words and erase them
As the flames engulf the paper
The memories turn to black,
I step outside
And lay the burning memories in a clay pot
I watch them turn to ash.
Now the memories of a past love
Never to be read.
