The Letter Box

She stared at it for a little longer. The moonlight had made its red out of rust skin shine. The view of it from her balcony was just so vivid. It had been there for years now. She remembered her dad placing it when they first moved into the house around twenty years ago. It stood like a testimony of time. Once filled with pretty envelopes overflowing with love and wishes from everyone she knew, from birthday wishes to funeral invitation. It hardly bore letters now. Someone told her the old postman is now too sick to ride the cycle, a new young boy had taken up his place and ever hardly stopped by it. The last time she saw an envelope there, was almost five years ago.  It sheltered a wedding card. His wedding card. The most beautiful card she had ever seen. Just the way she had imagined hers to be. Just the way he had told her he wanted his to be. One wedding card from Iceland and the letter box was never the same. It stayed there stuck to its ground rusted, old and frail like the forgotten lover. The lover who smelt him even today, years later in all his letters. The letters which once had spoken of everything beautiful under the sun. The letters that now stay crumbled under the bed. A little torn on the edges from everyday reading. She stood there watching it rain on the red letter box. A few drops kissed her crown skin. A little boy ran barefoot in the alley chasing a pretty girl, their laughter echoing in her ears. She ran back into the room gasping for breath. The old bed sheets looked abandoned. She scratched down her nails on the walls stained with charcoal. The paintings were hardly visible, all smudged with time. From the window on the side she looked outside to see the mirror. The Letter Box which no more brought his letters,  the letter box which stood rusted like the forgotten lover.

The maiden who sold smiles.

Clinging on to the memory walking down the streets,

She looked around for a soul.

The night that stared into her making holes of regret.

A friend she had, a friend she loved,

Putting a price to her smiles.

She sold a few, she sold a many,

Till she had her basket barren

She borrowed a few from the friend she loved.

She used them well and sold them too.

She roamed the streets and the markets,

She looked for them in forests and lost dreams,

She pulled apart cupboards and ripped open old letters,

Burnt a few pictures and set up the wrold on fire,

The fumes still had no smile to give...

The friend came back looking for his smiles...

She sat with the barren basket, devoid and barren.

She gave away the one she wore on her face,

A friend she lost,t he friend she loved.

That night it rained, rained so hard...

It rained on a soul that died without a smile on her face.

The dilapidated soul

A few withered leaves rushed down the lane

The severe quiteness of the dark night whispered her tales she had never heard

Every strong gush of wind brought her a gift

A gift she dare not open

Nostalgia she had buried under the ruins of reality

She looked through the storm that was yet to come

The delapidated soul that cried for the rains

The clouds ensured they wouldnt break tonight

The soul cried harder, the clouds stronger.

And she saw a little boy walk down the street

Amazed and scared at the sight

She sprinted to save him from the storm

Chaos in her mind that never siezed

At the touch of the boy,

The winds whispered her something she had heard before

The lightning showed her sights she hadnt seen for long..

The delapidated soul dug out memoirs from the relam of reality..

Tales of childhood she wanted the night to know..

The clouds didnt break still, She did. And their was rain on her soul...

There was rain on her delapidated soul.