~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XIII:~

By WordWulf, 5th Mar 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/asvvfi30/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Letters

~sing you singers~your ghosts and wishing wells~lost l’il girls~Anna Lee and Mary Magdalene~the deepest joke is life itself~pity the ultimate self-gratification~sweetness and dignity penetrate the brain~all is lost~my heart is gonna rain~

~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XIII:~

~A Secret Keep~

~A Secret Keep~

Is it wrong that I write in an effort to discover what’s wrong with me and the space I inhabit is filled with fresh demons. Loving the woman is easy from here. I want us to be like an old time movie. Coming to terms with her isn’t.

After a few hours of sleep last night I woke to the sound of time ripping, a zipper pulled and its static howl spewing forth in a gush of light. I closed my eyes to no avail, the light of time alive in my mind. I opened them to face it was gone.

The only ghost who comes to visit is the true spirit of loneliness, fate dripping from its wounds. My love is a Frankenstein monster, a hodge-podge of chaotic piecemeal events, something dead wishing to be alive, closets and under-beds, dust motes and death.

When you leave your lover, take your favorite spoon, coffee cup, bowl and dish. You’ll be amazed at the significance of these items, dearly missed if you leave them behind, tearful reminders if you take them with you, the shared meals of lovers whose hands met just there and lips kissed between bites.

Every village has a woman of tongues, a keeper of lore, one whom embraces community, provides it definition even gathers its children to her skirts. A timeless lady, she spends it with them gathering light, distributing it with her love spoon. It was my misfortune to fall in love with her.

These boots feel good on my feet. I never want to take them off. One of the advantages of sleeping alone is that you never scratch anyone with your dragon nails or burn them with the fire of your tongue. The events of your rising and falling are secrets kept and only from yourself.

~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: XII~
~For Madmen Only~
~Mirage~

Meet the author

WordWulf
Tom Sterner lives in Redding, California and Arvada, Colorado with wife Kathy. He has been published in numerous magazines and on the internet, including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review, The Storyteller, and Flashquake. His interne...(more)