I wrote your vengeful words on a torn scrap of paper, folding it into four corners to hold in the strictures, then tucked it into an old, musty book. The one that sits on a high shelf, never read, just gathering dust and losing its memories.
Plaguing my weary mind, I muted their chittering demands for release. Hidden away, ignored but not forgotten, so the black germs of your contagion wouldn’t continue to infect my spirit.
I should have burnt your words, destroying each one forever. Still I hoard them, keeping them within reach, to someday return them back to you.
*Photo venue: The stacks at Niceville Library, Niceville, FL
Thin spiral notebook 
This is poignant and a bit sad. She can’t let him go.
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Good piece! Full of powerful defiant words.
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Like the grit in the story. Like also the hint of vulnerability, as if by storing the words, she’s giving things time and a chance to change.
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This is a great idea. I’ll have to remember it the next time a similar situation arises for me. (:
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This is very cool!
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Sometimes I find notes, cards, random objects in old books. I consider those small treasures! Wonderful entry!!
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Revenge is a dish best served cold 🙂 great writing
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Enjoyed this. Whether you tuck them away in a book or in the darkest reaches of your mind, once uttered they’re there for ever. Nicely done,
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If only tucking the pain and anger away into a book made everything better. Great job Tara
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Nice work!
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