Slim

on a larger scale,
does the weight of
words left unsaid
increase?

perhaps
we should pound them
and weigh intention,
not letters.

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Dear Heartfelt Letters,

it’s been a couple of months now since I started blogging and you’ve been my faithful companions for a good, long while.
I’ve begun to realize that this blog is turning into a full-out Poetry Blog (duh, stating the obvious) – and since you look a little lost (and might feel threatened by all these weird, sometimes big word constructions over here), I decided to give you a new home.
From now on, you will make your appearances in a poetry-free realm… and you can finally stop wrinkling your noses.
I am sure you will like it there – I think I created a nice environment for you to live in.
I am thankful for your company and hope you won’t smack me for moving you. After all, it’s a lot better than the obligatory shoe box, don’t you think?

Sincerely,
The Landlady

P.S: Keys are under the doormat.

Dear Ignorant Idiots,

rape jokes about a photo of a girl passed out drunk on the ground aren’t fun.
they are sick and macabre.

i hope one day, someone will put a mirror in front of you… to show you how wrong you are to call yourselves ‘human beings’.
but honestly, i doubt you would even see the truth… and end up admiring your haircuts.

i won’t even call you animals, because animals are certainly more evolved than you.
i hope you fall flat on your faces for your ignorance.

sincerely,
a pissed off individual

Dear Melted Cheese,

i have to resist the urge to squeal with joy every time we meet.

you’re so delicious, i wish i could eat a ton of you and not get nauseous.
i like you best a little burnt – sometimes i provoke this particular consistency just by putting a slice of you in the microwave.
the outcome… a feast for my senses. mmmh.

you are awesome.
stay as you are… and be sure, you will have a devoted fan – as long as my cholesterol allows it.

thank you,
an admirer

Dear Past,

you have haunted me for quite a while now.

this morning, i woke up feeling something… extraordinary.

the anger was gone.
just gone.
poof.

i have no idea how long it has been.
it feels like a lifetime.
i always figured i would feel somewhat naked without it, but i don’t. it just feels… lighter somehow. i like it.
so, after receiving such a great gift, i stepped up and took the newfound opportunity.
i wrote something.
to someone.
i got rid of the last few scraps of hurt still floating around in my mind. it felt… good. those words out there, no longer sharpened and shaped by anger… i have to admit i was a bit proud of myself.
i said what i wanted to say. what needed to be said.
i paved the road for someone… and what that someone makes of it… no longer up to me.
i removed a burden not meant for me to carry. sweet relief.

my dear past, i want to thank you.

thank you for finally letting me slip out of your grasp… for letting me see, that there is something else waiting for me. something different from painful memories. it is such a good feeling to start blinking again.

thank you for letting me wake up today… feeling like this.
thank you for letting go of me.

forever grateful,
the former fist of anger

Dear Beautiful Minds,

how i treasure you.

you do not only weave a comfortable blanket around me with your words, thoughts and ideas, you keep the fire in me burning.
every day i see you share my admiration for words… you all use them with care; thoughtfully place them in order to fit your intentions.
i love it.
i love how you inspire me, how you make me laugh, well up, startle me, how you make me uneasy. the whole spectrum of emotions… you present it to me on a daily basis – and i am grateful for your offerings.

thank you.

sincerely,
an admirer

p.s.: because i do not want to make this too sentimental, please insert an inappropriate word of your choice here -> (         )… to lighten the mood. heh.

Dear Frozen Chicken,

i have been looking at you, sitting on my counter, for some time now.

i briefly considered defrosting you in the microwave, but for some reason, this always ends up in disaster. no matter how hard i try, i never seem to be able to get it right… when the cheerful bing finally sounds, the stuff i put in there is always cooked on the outside and still icy on the inside. ugh.

i am writing this letter to cheer you on.
my stomach is growling and it’s starting to get real angry with me. i know, you’re probably trying to make me suffer for wanting to eat you, but i promise your new home will be warm and cozy – at least for a while. when it’s time to let you go again, i will be reluctant – i know you will be delicious… and, honestly, who wants to voluntarily give up something that good?!

so would you please hurry up a bit? you’re my breakfast and i’m too lazy (and now too determined) to make toast.

thanks in advance,
the famished