Member-only story
A Confession
Let me confess today.
You don’t really know me.
These clothes are carefully chosen,
Every stitch is intentional,
Silk and satin threads,
Exotic embroidery,
Sequinned diamonds,
All sewn together in a pretty pattern
To dazzle and distract,
To tell a false tale
For you to love.
But let me confess today.
You don’t really know me.
For the real me is wrinkled,
Of fevered complexion,
A painted face
Drowning in sewage drains.
The goblins from the gutter have risen
To claim their debt.
My snake skin is singed,
Consumed by the fumes in my rotting mind,
Leaving behind a charred skeleton
And the crushed fragments
Of a porcelain heart.
That is me.
The worthless monster you don’t know,
Who writes secret confessions
Hidden in poems
He hopes you won’t ever read.
If you did,
Would you love me still?
