Dear Love,
Oh the rumors one hears. You are by far, the hardest to write to, in all honesty. You are a rare creature, worshiped, as well as cursed upon. You remind me of the legends, one would here, regarding Greek Gods. Many bow to your feet, praising, cheering, begging for your blessings. In the same, yet completely opposite sense, you are spit toward, screamed into the night, voices filled with agony and unimaginable pain, cursing your very existence. I, writing this letter, am still not sure how I should address you. I have written my admirations, my apologies, my thankfulness, my hate, my happiness, my pain, on and so forth, but you rattle my ability as well as my vocabulary for a suitable address for you. You are a creature of light, blessing the lives of mortals, like I, as well as dark, ripping the love you previously graced, from the weakened grasp of those you hurt. Now, I think, you are simply indescribable. I have never been graced with true love, at your hand, which is expected, but I am well aware of the prescience you hold over the places I walk. I hold you in my hand, when I see the lit faces of children on Christmas, or on the thankful ones of parents, grandparents, and so forth, alike. Thank you for your graceful hand, and for the pain you cast on the ones like me. For without the pain, we would take your gift for granted, that is how I understand you. Holding your abilities captive from those who carelessly toss it around.
With Thanks-
Reyna Evans
YOU ARE READING
Greeting Insanity
General FictionI find comfort in the colors of the world That's where the "doctors" have it wrong Sticking people like me In rooms adorned only with Plain Crisp White Walls White room White bed White toiletries White necessities It's vile It's cruel And it makes...
