Nothing Else to Say.

In the corridor of my heart there are many doors. And these copious doors lead to rooms. Each room unique in both purpose and decor. Towards the front of the hall there are rooms which I visit daily,Like a devout en route to morning mass. Farther back, however, where the edge of the lantern stops And the dust settles on the ne'er trampled stones,Lies a room seldom visited. Today, like every, I went into the hallway, and glaring down the tomb, I remembered the room seldom visited. Creeping towards the room I notice on the floor, things that should have been tucked away behind lock and key, I make a mental note: Hire a maid. Opening the room seldom visited, the darkness of the stone walls was Illuminated by vestiges of you that I had tucked away in case I might need them again.I looked with a bittersweet fondness at the items that while once considered treasure, now appeared as carnage. I gathered the yellowing notes, the tired sentiments, the meaningless affections, and packed them with the gale of the lies that put these things in the room first. I bound this all, every last glimmer of you, into a wooden crate and sliding near a window, I watched it drop faster than Rapunzal’s hair, hitting the water below in a most theatrical splash. You and I have no connection, the bonds are truly broken, I kept them safe here, hoping you might once again wish to re-attach, but I was a fool for thinking that the little, honest amount of love I could offer you could ever outweigh the power of your own selfish, deceptive heart. Splash.