They’re gone for now.
I can sneak into the palace and take a look, just a small peek.
It would not hurt, would it?
Alas, it would.
The letters make my blood boil.
If epistolary romance that is not,
Then what, pray tell, do you call this?
Rage. Pure rage.
How dare you?
Monsters!
Both of you.
I tried to stop myself with all my might.
My mind, as always, tends to disagree.
"Go on, just look! She’s yours, you have the right!"
Obsession mine shall be the death of me.
Somebody, anybody!
Help me forget.
Help me crawl out of the palace
And never come back.
Not a soul around.
And yet, so many noises, flashes.
They blind me.
They deafen me.
I wait and wait
Until I cut my finger with the paper.
It’s wrong, oh so wrong,
Albeit quite exciting.
The Letters
© Copyright: Стефан Тилькин, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123032807986
Свидетельство о публикации №123032807986
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