My Confession

Open your eyes, feel your way through the darkness but beware of the sharp corners of my insecurity. Watch your step so you do not bruise yourself on my doubts. Drop to your knees, keep crawling towards my whispers. Please do not stop. I need you to be brave. Feel with your hands until you find the door to my heart… is there you will find my soul, hiding, ready to confess.

I need another soul in the dark to listen and not judge me.

I want you to hear the fears, the lonely terror throbbing in my palms every time they caress in prayer. I dance through the pages reading stories of old and promises of new….yet neither one is fitting right. Was I shaped by the wrong hands and broken along all my fault lines?

Now I am sitting in the middle of the ocean, choking on the reflection of the stars, but I am missing the echo of your pulse. Sometimes I can still hear the shallow crashing of your breath on the edge of your lips at night as we slept. Don’t interrupt, because if we are silent, I think I can hear it now. I don’t want to shy away from this tsunami of emotion or the callous edge of my well-used, wrung-dry heart. Shh..I can feel my heart waltzing with yours.

Please, sit close and hold my hand. Wipe away my tears when they form constellations along my lashes. Tell me it will be alright. Lie to me and say the world is beautiful and I will find redemption in sunrises. Pull out the last of my living hope and paint it on the horizon.

Hear my plea: loan me your mouth and breathe grace into my lungs.

I’m asking too much, pleading with fractured lips, but you’re my last chance.

Forgive me?

This was written for the Trifecta challenge.

This weeks challenge is to use the word door in the story but with the 3rd definition

1: a usually swinging or sliding barrier by which an entry is closed and opened; also : a similar part of a piece of furniture
2: doorway
3: a means of access or participation : opportunity <opens new doors> <door to success>

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