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The Letter

Out Of Order

By Kelli Sheckler-AmsdenPublished 4 months ago • 2 min read
Runner-Up in Out of Order Challenge
The Letter
Photo by Lena Polishko on Unsplash

that letter sat quietly in my mailbox

with its news for nearly a week

when my eyes finally saw what it was

my knees trembled and my heart felt weak

I don't know how I could have missed it

an unmarked ramp on a lonely highway

without the courtisity of explanation

everything I'd known shifted sideways

any plans I thought that I was making

fell, like a shooting star, off the radar

my whole body began violently shaking

as I walked out and got in my car

I don't remember crossing the railroad tracks

but there was a garage sale sign, maybe two

somehow I knew there was no going back

no hope I could hope to undo

sitting there through a couple of green lights

I couldn't hear the cars honking at me

searching my thoughts for some kind of insight

I relined the back down on my seat

suddenly a stranger tapped my window

snapping me out of that haze

I'm sure that I looked like a psycho

with that lost look left there on my face

he didn't ask me any questions

yet somehow I still felt a connection

he tried giving some helpful suggestions

the letter offered what I could not mention

I thought I was standing in the kitchen

when I noticed the red flag on the box

I find myself in this awkward position

driving my car without socks

I remember holding that letter

but after that, it was like time simply stopped

now I am wrapped up in some stranger's sweater

being transported somewhere by the cops

seems everyone's seen those cursive secrets

that the mailman left for me to find

I guess I haven't quiet come to terms yet

why everyone around me is crying

I grabbed my phone and dialed your number

and then the truth hits like a runaway train

you were the subject in that letter

and like a shot of caffeine to my brain

this wave of knowing sweeps me over

and knocks the air out of my lungs

I gather what's left of my composure

stare in my lap, silently tapping my thumbs

I close my eyes and I'm gently transported

back to the kitchen again, early this morning

wishing that something this damn important

came with an appropriate warning

fact or fictionStream of Consciousnessheartbreaksad poetrysurreal poetry

About the Creator

Kelli Sheckler-Amsden

Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition

If you like what you read, feel free to leave a tip, I would love some feedback

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    Written by Kelli Sheckler-Amsden