loose ends are meant to be burned, not tied.
they were romanticized by the written word - simply for the fact that it was not oral, vocalized, nor wantonly discarded into the thinness of the air. never trust a smooth talker, they believed. writing lent itself to some semblance of permanence. accountability, at the very least.
he rifled his fingertips through the box of letters - a portrait of their passion and pain spilt onto plain stationary in blue, black, and sometimes lavender gel ink - she once said it was pretty. the letters spoke of the volumes that existed between them, now brittled and yellowed by the years. more recently, the heartache had finally bore through her worn, tattered patience for sentimentality until all that remained were the straggling threads of indifference. I held the box up.
they were romanticized by the written word - simply for the fact that it was not oral, vocalized, nor wantonly discarded into the thinness of the air. never trust a smooth talker, they believed. writing lent itself to some semblance of permanence. accountability, at the very least.
he rifled his fingertips through the box of letters - a portrait of their passion and pain spilt onto plain stationary in blue, black, and sometimes lavender gel ink - she once said it was pretty. the letters spoke of the volumes that existed between them, now brittled and yellowed by the years. more recently, the heartache had finally bore through her worn, tattered patience for sentimentality until all that remained were the straggling threads of indifference. I held the box up.
what shall we do with these?
burn them, she stated. i want you to freakin' burn them.
Okie..lets have a bonfire then tonight!! Last night in Newcastle will see us both skipping around a huge pile of sentimental burnt belongings. Brrrr...what a way to warm up for winter!
