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Dear,
      It's taken so many attempts to get to this stage, where I've finally gotten an idea of what I want to say - where I finally understand how best to say it. I never could understand why I always wrote about you. You've forsaken me in so many ways but I could never seem to return the favour.

You see, perhaps the reason I hate the thought that I mean nothing to you is because I have so little of what we had left. I don't just want our past to just disappear into the aether. You can't just white-wash the memories and replace the furniture, because the bloodstains are still visible on the carpet and they will get noticed sooner or later.

I'm tired of twisiting emotions and words, and I'm tired of changing a sentence out of all recognition until you don't even realise what I'm trying to say so desperately to you. The simplest of lines can often sound so awkward and forced, but this is the last time I'll contort such words for our sakes. From now on, I'll be pure and unadulterated.

Can't you see? This isn't -


She couldn't bear the words that fell so uncomfortably close to the truth, so she folded the letter neatly, and left it in a drawer to rot.
©2007-2009 ~Mnesimache
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Submitted: September 21, 2007
File Size: 1.4 KB
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Comments: 14
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Interesting ... The letter is there, but for some reason, I see more of the reader than the writer. It's a powerful statement to the mixed blessing of being a muse.

--
A Flower does not Bloom to be thanked for its Blossom.

-quoth the Raven.
That's as good a summary as I could've hoped for. I like that. It's true that being 'a muse' is an awkward position - more often than not, they don't ask for it!
Heh, but YOU are a muse as well ;) I have a printed copy of Gunfights tucked away in my sketchbook, for when I have a free moment. ;)

--
A Flower does not Bloom to be thanked for its Blossom.

-quoth the Raven.
Sorry, but ... yeah.

--
A Flower does not Bloom to be thanked for its Blossom.

-quoth the Raven.
Now this is a great little piece. I love how you tidied the ending by pulling back into the bigger scene, away from the paper, and then give us the future of the letter as well. rot. Nice work Martin!

PS. muse, muse, muse ;p

--
~ Ben :frog:
the muse lives within and writing can exorcise her flesh bite by bite ...

--
" ... when artists are working directly from their emerging consciousness, their art is their most honest mirror." Carolyn Mary Kleefeld
Indeed, indeed. Though sometimes writers don't want to exorcise the muse. After all, loss and longing are just as powerful as joy - sometimes even more so. As long as the heartstrings are being tugged, the writer is in their element, I guess.
To pretend one dwells comfortably in angst is self-deception, don't you think? The known is always more comfortable than the unknown, but that does not necessaril mean it is truly comfortable. And what is really uncomfortable is hope of relief if it is not supported from within.

--
" ... when artists are working directly from their emerging consciousness, their art is their most honest mirror." Carolyn Mary Kleefeld

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