Confession letters send in times of distress to those who don’t care. As the scribe, some wonder why I don’t tell friends of the inner-workings of the mind. Worry would grip their minds; I can vent to a stranger and know it will go unread. I’m hoping a lost emotion will be heard by my balancing butterfly.


7 comments so far

  1. Tumblewords on

    Ah, the balance of the butterfly. Nice thought…

  2. Selma on

    This has really moved me because I’ve been there myself. I’ve often thought of writing a letter about my fears and regrets and putting it in a bottle then throwing it into Sydney Harbour, just to see what would happen. The butterfly is an image of hope.

  3. paisley on

    unread??? are you kidding me?? can you imagine the blast something like that would be to read if you just came a cross it??

  4. floreta on

    and who is this butterfly? 😉

  5. noahthegreat on

    I hear she has stars sparkle in her eyes like fireworks that do not end. There have been words between us, but not too many. She wears lovely dresses a lot. She has a tattoo on her upper back that reminds me of an eternal butterfly. I’m not sure I can approach her after my sleep-deprived epic note.

  6. texasblu on

    I hope she hears you too. Your poetic nature shines through, oh Noah the Great. 🙂

  7. noahthegreat on

    Oh, nobody needs to call me that. I think, I scared her away. I’ll try to not let it get to me too much.

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