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a storyteller's perspective, steppin' off the ordinary edge, into the unknown An unsent letter lay on the rustic log cabin floor A cold wind musta’ blown through the cracks the light comes in, where it laid fallen, half *** crumbled, yet never a wadded ball; never an unspoken thrown paper stone,  a befallen regret was all. Silently atilt and leaning against the canted wall's slant behind the gathered dust a squeaky hinged burl wood door A timeworn tarnished copper wind up clock roosted, an old lip smirched coffee cup time stood still; an empty bottle of gin sat near the bed post headboard where the ink stains and blotted spillings let the memories in. Stained pages torn and bent like fallen paper wings returned to the unread sender … postage due,   south a heaven sent ― A sullied envelope, gnawed and mouse chewed, for a nest of new beginnings ―                                                                just read:                   Lydia  ...                                   ... followed by a scribbled empty heart                The time aged brown tattered tablet paper left behind stifled like the unread heart it holds upon the threadbare pages of smudged tear’s ache and spilled gin The weathered rock hearth fireplace filled with spent ashes, hand rolled cigarette butts, traces of an aching lament; scratched up old vinyl records lay ***** and tired out, from a time of sweeter fallen fences, a musical bliss, and a lost angel's abandoned red slinky party dress,   aside a busted off black velvet high-heel stuck sullied in a hollow knothole in the ancient barn-wood floor a sparkly pearl pink jewel entangled in a spider web An unsent letter lay on the rustic cabin floor A cold wind musta’ blown through the cracks the light gets in The final unread words silently said:                                *"We lost our way,                                   it all went wrong,                                   it all turned bad"                              ..."This is the outcome when someone you love                                     up and throws you away"                              ...“I’ll reach out from the inside                                   I’ll rise up again and do without”                              ..."You went out into the world                                   with an untamed hankerin’ ―                                   like a carefree restless gypsy breeze                                                                  and come back worlds apart"* The Unsent Letter,                             just whispered words to the dust in the wind                                                                                     in quivering ink:                              ...*"how can I ever unremember you...?                                   a thrown stone sinks wordlessly as a rock...,                                   an old wood bucket with a rotten hole the heart,                                   fallen forgotten, rock bottom as an empty well"*                                         just signed:   ...   ❤  August                           January 1st, 2017 ... august ... wild is the wind  ♡
0
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
The Unsent Letter
a storyteller's perspective, steppin' off the ordinary edge, into the unknown An unsent letter lay on the rustic log cabin floor A cold wind musta’ blown through the cracks the light comes in, where it laid fallen, half *** crumbled, yet never a wadded ball; never an unspoken thrown paper stone,  a befallen regret was all. Silently atilt and leaning against the canted wall's slant behind the gathered dust a squeaky hinged burl wood door A timeworn tarnished copper wind up clock roosted, an old lip smirched coffee cup time stood still; an empty bottle of gin sat near the bed post headboard where the ink stains and blotted spillings let the memories in. Stained pages torn and bent like fallen paper wings returned to the unread sender … postage due,   south a heaven sent ― A sullied envelope, gnawed and mouse chewed, for a nest of new beginnings ―                                                                just read:                   Lydia  ...                                   ... followed by a scribbled empty heart                The time aged brown tattered tablet paper left behind stifled like the unread heart it holds upon the threadbare pages of smudged tear’s ache and spilled gin The weathered rock hearth fireplace filled with spent ashes, hand rolled cigarette butts, traces of an aching lament; scratched up old vinyl records lay ***** and tired out, from a time of sweeter fallen fences, a musical bliss, and a lost angel's abandoned red slinky party dress,   aside a busted off black velvet high-heel stuck sullied in a hollow knothole in the ancient barn-wood floor a sparkly pearl pink jewel entangled in a spider web An unsent letter lay on the rustic cabin floor A cold wind musta’ blown through the cracks the light gets in The final unread words silently said:                                *"We lost our way,                                   it all went wrong,                                   it all turned bad"                              ..."This is the outcome when someone you love                                     up and throws you away"                              ...“I’ll reach out from the inside                                   I’ll rise up again and do without”                              ..."You went out into the world                                   with an untamed hankerin’ ―                                   like a carefree restless gypsy breeze                                                                  and come back worlds apart"* The Unsent Letter,                             just whispered words to the dust in the wind                                                                                     in quivering ink:                              ...*"how can I ever unremember you...?                                   a thrown stone sinks wordlessly as a rock...,                                   an old wood bucket with a rotten hole the heart,                                   fallen forgotten, rock bottom as an empty well"*                                         just signed:   ...   ❤  August                           January 1st, 2017 ... august ... wild is the wind  ♡
postscript: trying to write outside my comfort zone box                   this storyteller's perspective, steppin' off the edge the unknown                   i did have fun from behind the incarnation of a caricature's eyes                   some say "it's always about the writer"...what say you(?)! .
wildisthewind
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Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
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