Opened Letter

Picture: The Love Rite - #HBF

I open this letter with salutations from a heart that has been paged through and bookmarked by the engravement of your breath when you whisper my name.

Hello, you are beautiful.

I no longer use the pen to write with, all you have to do is read me to understand. When you understand me, you will understand the bearings of seasons. And yes, our love child will be of [off] spring, a summer in her mother’s garden; the fall of winter in her father’s devotion.

Heaven held at ransom by a young man’s prayer for companionship, coffee breaks and the sowing of libraries, I believe you to be the discount for what life couldn’t afford – what eternity could not afford to withhold. Time stands in ovation, moments are dressed in glory for you are my contentment’s unfolding story formerly folded in prophesy, faith and necessity.

Winter felt in Wintervedlt is only a proclamation that Naturena has to incline to nature’s arena where gladiators shall cease to entertain the masses with their deaths but shall captivate the audience of one lass with their wealth – the wealth of their pens. The wealth of my pen, but alas! I no longer use the pen to write with. All you have to do is read between the lines and perhaps one line can entangle you while the other pulls you even closer to me.

I surrender to close this letter for its body has been caressed with the graffiti of spray cans that kiss instead of hiss. Yes, no ink, just my lips.

So long. You’re more beautiful…

Love,

MMM.

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