Awkward things.

Poison Pen Letter

on April 1, 2013

The words spring off the lines, desperate for new lives.

Curling up and out, cutting through the ink like knives.

If only she could wound you,

With her cruelly arching letters,

Take away your wonder and your

Hope that life gets better.

If only hurried scribbles

Sneaked to kill you in your sleep.

If only inky fingers could do more

Than make you weep.

If only she could poison

Every thought that’s in your head.

If only words were more than words,

Her words would stone you dead.


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