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Music sings out, sobbing in the silence of a darkened room. It rises and falls, waves of calm and turmoil, shared in bursts; crescendoes of chaos and gentle melodies, like bridges between tears. This is where heart-ache resides; patient and deadly, it waits. It lurks in crowded corners, along with all the other sins you make room for. It makes the music you wish others could hear, soft murmurs repeating long into the night. This is where everything resides. The dark portions are home to all your creatures, and all the music they make; worn strings and sticky keys. Jealousy and its drumbeats paired with dishonest notes and the jagged shadows of your temptations and spite. The room is loud around you, but no one on the other side of the door can hear you cry it’s too loud. They hear a rustle of leaves in a barren night. Nothing more. I confess. I confess I still love you. I confess I still desire another, and another; I confess to all these temptations, passions left sour in my mouth. I confess to dreaming of you hurt. I confess to rejecting your body once before, a one night stand left on pause for days. I confess to inflicting your words, just like I confess to feeling bruised and wounded. I confess to tears, when I see you embrace another. I confess to tears in the long, cold night; because I only feel empty at the thought of your name. I confess to wishing I’d screamed at you, howled in agony before your eyes as you slipped between my fingers. I confess to hoping you would admit your scandalous lies, and confess to knowing you never would be good enough to. I confess to whispering your name above me, and being glad I don’t have to bear a response. I confess to painting your memories in words, and loving how they float away, as slippery and fine as silk. I confess all these things, in your name.
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Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 10:01 PM UTC
Confessions
Music sings out, sobbing in the silence of a darkened room. It rises and falls, waves of calm and turmoil, shared in bursts; crescendoes of chaos and gentle melodies, like bridges between tears. This is where heart-ache resides; patient and deadly, it waits. It lurks in crowded corners, along with all the other sins you make room for. It makes the music you wish others could hear, soft murmurs repeating long into the night. This is where everything resides. The dark portions are home to all your creatures, and all the music they make; worn strings and sticky keys. Jealousy and its drumbeats paired with dishonest notes and the jagged shadows of your temptations and spite. The room is loud around you, but no one on the other side of the door can hear you cry it’s too loud. They hear a rustle of leaves in a barren night. Nothing more. I confess. I confess I still love you. I confess I still desire another, and another; I confess to all these temptations, passions left sour in my mouth. I confess to dreaming of you hurt. I confess to rejecting your body once before, a one night stand left on pause for days. I confess to inflicting your words, just like I confess to feeling bruised and wounded. I confess to tears, when I see you embrace another. I confess to tears in the long, cold night; because I only feel empty at the thought of your name. I confess to wishing I’d screamed at you, howled in agony before your eyes as you slipped between my fingers. I confess to hoping you would admit your scandalous lies, and confess to knowing you never would be good enough to. I confess to whispering your name above me, and being glad I don’t have to bear a response. I confess to painting your memories in words, and loving how they float away, as slippery and fine as silk. I confess all these things, in your name.
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