They can be brought on by guilt or desperation
said in quiet whispers behind closed doors
screamed from rooftops where everyone will hear you, you hope everyone will hear you
dragged out by suffocating pressure or freely given like the air that fills your lungs
hard and soft and all places in between
spoken with sharp edges and lashing tongues
with warmth like hot chocolate after playing in the snow
they can bring pain or joy
fickle things
I'm sorry                                                                                
                                                                      I love you
It was never you                                                          
                                             Always you
Confessions.