The Bleeding of My Babbling Heart

Letters.

Never sent.

Letters.

In the hand of my own worst enemy.

Letters.

Don’t let her see them. Don’t let anyone see them. Please. 

With a smirk on his face, he holds them over the edge.

“I will drop them”. He says.

Rain upon the crowd, my thoughts, my emotions. Rain on the world my planned out speeches of romance and love, never to be heard. Never to be spoken.

Rain. The tears of my eyes. The storm in my heart.

Please, No. 

The world can’t even look up. Completely unaware. My entire mind, everything unspoken, written.

Letters.

What if she finds them. Will she know they’re for her?

 

Still staring at me from the edge, His look hasn’t changed. He knows what is written. He has memorized every word. He has no way of knowing the passion behind them, but to him none of it makes any sense, anyways.

“I will drop them” He says once more.

The force inside me stops my breath short. The agony, the fire, the dread. The thought of trekking paths unknown.

Drop them. 

Go ahead. Let the world see. The core of my being. My soul cut open, served on a silver platter. Go ahead. Drop them.

Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe she’ll feel the same. Maybe she will be the first and only person to read the letters, and she will cherish them forever. Yes.

His face finally changes.

It is I.

Standing on the edge. Letters in hand. Sadistic smirk on my face. I look at myself, with a look of pleasure at my own discomfort, and  I once again cringe.

“I will drop them.”  I say.

No. Please no. 

My arms wrap around my head. Not far enough. This shell of a body covers, not enough of my being, as I long only for total seclusion.

Burry me alive.

Run my fingers through my hair. Turn in my sleep.

 

I have not written any letters.

But how dare I show her; whats written on my heart.

I stare myself down, standing on the edge, threatening myself.

“I’ll drop them”.

A sick joke.

Go ahead. Tell her. Spell it all out. Let the world know.

No.

No human being ever understands.

Not her. Not you. Not me. Nobody.

 

Letters.

If only it were all that easy.

 

I let them go.

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