Rilke's Letters

When letters were written by fire light and sealed up with charred red wax containing the breath and the Indian ink from a hand penned in burning romance the world hung on every word there within When letters like these were broke open to breathe even the birds stole the song from their voice and the sky held the skirt of the burning breeze while the breeze blew in tears like it had a choice and the reader read on in earnest. When letters contained inspiring quotes to be spoken in whispers in velvet halls the writer grew famous in circles and such for the decadent living which broke down walls and rebuilt them in modern white plaster When letters were written in the hush of the night by a hand yearning touch from it's one true mate sealed up with a burning, reproachable script which only would fluster and cruel complicate the reader would sure fall in love and respond, there in kind, with a letter...