A/N: This was originally my friend's idea–just some writing exercises to improve our creativity and explore poetic ideas in depth. The title was given by her, and is called as such since the actual 'anthology' comprises letters written by both of us (this is just my side of the story). The letters are addressed to different persons and written along different themes–it's up to the readers to make assumptions.

Constructive criticism is immensely appreciated; I'd love some reviews expressing readers' feelings. Thank you very much for taking a look!


An Anthology of Correspondence
By Noir Schist

1. Wings that should never grow

Dear you-know-who-I-am-and-I-know-who-you-are,

Cloudy days and sunny days both occur all year round. The Sun always shines, but sometimes, we just fail to see it. Clouds paint the sky and blue stains the atmosphere. Leaves flourish and grow greener until the gold encompasses this colour of life, until all we see is a glimmer of what had been alive.

The grass grows green and the wind dances in glee.

Yet, why are we always drowning in darkness?

What holds us together can measure the diameter of the Earth in thickness, or it can be feather-light, whose wings flap at the slightest current of air, trying to take flight. So much of these, these lengths and measurements and weights have already reached the heavens, some have succumbed to black holes or some just float in dead space, never advancing.

Don't you feel the loss?

I wish you'd hold all the stars, pulsars, nebulas and galaxies in your bare hands, just so we can look at them together. Our eyes would hold the same image. The twinkling of countless constellations will delight us to no end. Our laughter will be in perfect synchronization, every intake of breath identical, every noise we make matching perfectly in pitch, every finger outstretched to the same length.

One picture bleeding into the next in stark crimson. So quickly the frenzy of flying hearts lose their fuel and drop, one by one, lost of heart. The weight between us that binds, might suddenly defy the laws of gravity and just shoot up, never to be found again, lost in the depths the never-ending maze of lifeless chemical bulks. If we're particularly unlucky, a black hole might just swallow what we had whole, making certain that it'll never come up.

I want to write a letter to you with the salt in the seas, on the blue sky that blinds, in the wake of the rising sun, with eyes not disillusioned; so that our measurements can never grow wings;

To ask you to cherish what we have in your heart.

Yours,

I-know-who-you-are-and-you-know-who-I-am