#confessions

577 posts
  • nk_4d_poetry 9h

    Embodied

    City life,
    City lights,
    Everytime I'm feeling right,
    Girl,
    I got you here tonight,
    Shining like a crystallite,
    All my years,
    All my life,
    No more tears,
    No more lies,
    Wipe them tears,
    Wipe them eyes,
    Girl,
    You got me hypnotised.

    ©nk_4d_poetry

  • sophrosyne 3w

    The best storms are the one's without rain

    Here lie the confessions of a pluviophile

    I confess though I love the rain, and truly all storms make me feel ecstatic, the truth is my favorite kind of storms will always be the one's which happen in the middle of the night with my bestfriend, the one's which possess neither rain, nor thunder...


    For my favorite storms will always be the brainstorms we had, in the night together
    ©sophrosyne

  • heartofbabel 4w

    [ Confessions ]

    What I like to do is contemplate
    Ponder within my mind
    To manifest a world
    That isn’t quite like mine
    Then dwell there just a while
    In this place which holds no time
    Just to permeate eternity
    Before I start my rhyme

    Once I’ve lived that life
    And gained from the experience
    I slowly start to wake
    From my slumber and delirium
    A rebirth, with greater sight
    And a mind of the criterion
    When everything’s aright
    To expound of which I’m curious

    Then I find the space
    Arriving before the audience
    A solitude in grace
    Yet an anxiety in cautiousness
    To make sure, what I’m to take
    If the effort isn’t obvious
    Worth the time to speak
    For there is nothing without confidence

    Then, when I’m bold enough
    And I feel it so, assuringly
    I then prepare myself
    Casting off all insecurity
    A moment at a time
    To see perfection in its purity
    A host of worth and value
    To be presented so alluringly

    Now entering the ballroom
    Almost time to start the dance
    I’ve to find my perfect partner
    Whom to get lost within trance
    An art in unison
    To be coupled and enhanced
    Whom to step with perfect harmony
    Along this undetermined path

    Chosen, with intent
    Eyes locked in the moment
    The future is foreseen
    Desired and focused
    The partner of my dreams
    Permeating and potent
    Patiently awaiting
    The arms of a poet

    It is as the song begins
    And the movements set to flow
    That the dance does tell the story
    Of the seeds that I’ve sown
    Of the dreams that I’ve envisioned
    Of the lives that I’ve known
    To bring about existence
    Which I have longed to bestow

    Every step, every movement
    Every note, every breath
    Is an action unveiling
    Intentioned, in its depth
    Seductive, illusive
    Vague and yet, direct
    To seize the attention
    In what I am to confess

    ©heartofbabel

  • suddenlyme 10w

    I have....

    I have a Speech Apraxia and that's all I have to say
    ©suddenlyme

  • myspilledink 12w

    Confess

    Shall my tongue hold back
    The feelings I have had stack
    Or shall I whisper in your ears something
    Would you call me a maniac?

    To your eyes shall I seek
    To your lips I shall I speak
    Would you flinch away
    If I kiss on your cheek.?

    Allow me to embrace
    I adore you with all the grace
    Should I help you with chores around
    Or between my palms, cup your face.

    Pardon me if I misspeak
    Forgive me if I act as freak
    For you must know I am high
    My feelings have reached it's peak

    Turn to me and just let me gaze
    Your tears and fears will erase
    Hold me closer don't shrug away
    Just come with me, let's stop the chase

    It's our story not some paperback
    I have confessed, need your feedback
    I may be wrong otherwise,
    But I am sure
    Our love will bloom like one of lilac.

    ©myspilledink

  • wanderwords 19w

    A part of me will
    Always apologize
    For being selfish
    when it comes to my
    own validation

    ~janvi

  • ritudhaulakhandi 19w

    Confessions

    This one is going to be a little different
    These are some of my most deepest feelings that no one has been able to understand
    "You look so skinny", "Skeleton", "Oh you will get blown away by the wind!", These are something I hear on a daily basis but did any of them wonder how hard it is to listen to them?
    People who know will understand the struggle a person goes through with health problems
    I never asked to be skinny, it is what my health issues have turned me into
    My parents see me in pain but even they fail to understand sometimes when I tell them that it's hard for me
    Yes, it is hard but I am still trying... Shouldn't that be all that matters?
    What else do you desire from me?
    I want to be happy with how I am but will this world allow that much freedom to me?
    For once?
    There are moments when I break down and feel like giving up on trying more but I still get back up
    Build big walls, act strong, become heartless
    How long... How long....
    ©ritudhaulakhandi

  • simranbawa 20w

    13th December 2019 - Day of Thousand Thoughts

    This was the day when I wrote a letter to my parents telling them that I don't want to pursue sciences anymore. Below is the letter, raw and authentic as it was presented before my parents almost two years ago.

    This is something that I've been dreading to tell both of you for a long time. I don't know how to talk it out to you guys so I'm simply writing it down. So the thing is that I know I'm not made for sciences. I know it's pretty late to say this and I also apologize for it. I'm not saying this because I'm scared of hardwork or anything, I have realized this after all kinds of analysis and profound thinking. Please don't keep this thing in your mind that I'm seeing this as an "alternative to hardwork" or that it's "just a distraction" because it is NOT. This is very serious for me and I want you guys to understand me at this time. In case you are guessing that any one of my friend has lured me in this direction then I would like you to know that both of you are the first ones to know about this. Now I realize that I've wasted a lot of my time and your money in a line I don't belong. This only makes things difficult to disclose to you and increase my guilt level super high . I chose to study medical on the very first hand because I had no ambitions of my own and I was bent upon to fulfilling yours. I knew becoming a doctor would be very tough and challenging but I still wanted it because I felt that I was useless and not good enough to do anything else. So I just dragged along for all this time. But in these past two years I've matured , explored and discovered all my potentials and interests. And after all of this what I've observed is reading new chapters or getting good grades have never given me that content and satisfaction I expect from my life. All of this stabs me all day but I relieve myself by writing down about some random stuff on a white sheet. I thought writing and expressing my thoughts was just a mere hobby until this one day when I was feeling really low and I wrote a small poem about it which gave me immense bliss. Over the time I realized that composing articles/poems/quotations/essays/stories makes me euphoric like nothing else. I never share my writings with anybody but once my friend Alisha accidentally found one of my article about melancholy in my physics register. She read it without my notice and came to me with tears in her eyes and said "Thank you" . Confused, as I was I asked her the reason and she told me how my article helped her reviewing all the troubles of her life which were making her melancholic. That was the first time in these two years that I actually felt proud of myself. It was not because I write good but because I can actually touch people's hearts with what I write and can help them to get through with their problems. This thing was taking over me in a serious manner when I saw I can flawlessly overcome toughest of the people and their viewpoints not only in the formal competitions but also in the informal arenas like class discussions and debates. This rekindled my self esteem which was almost strangled to lifelessness by the daily burden of academics, which now appear to me nothing but a drudge. Gradually I observed even nightlongs of work and effort would not give me such marvellous results as you expect in the academics. It became the reason for the hate and loathe I hold against myself. On the contrary I can write any compositional piece without putting any extra efforts into it. It became the reason to provide me enough love, satisfaction and self acceptance. This is how a mere hobby of mine turned into my passion and ambition . Now that I've realized what I truly want and what I'm capable of, it kills me everyday to be sowing the seeds of someone else's dream. I don't want to be successful doing what I don't want to do. Maybe I'm a bit selfish but I've tried very hard to live with this dream of yours but it's just that I'm not strong enough to give up mine. Moreover it's very disheartening to watch both of you being disappointed in me but it's even more disheartening to watch me being disappointed in myself. For now I'm planning to give my board exams with full heart and soul and put a glorious end to this journey.

    I don't want to continue my journey with sciences after that. I wish to do post graduation in English so that I can work upon my skills of creative writing. I am also looking forward to pursue a career in editorial aspects, writer, novelist, journalism and other such similar ventures where I can express my ideas on a legit platform and propound my views to the world. I know I am VERY late in communicating my intentions to you. It's because I was scared of facing both of you with this truth. Also since I wanted to be very sure of my decision. Because of these insecurities I always shoved this topic away and never talked about it. But as you see it can't linger off forever, it had to be dug out some day and it has to be today. Since I'm vexed with all of these dynamic thoughts exploding my head besides all the criticism that I'm going through each day. So I reached my saturation and when I couldn't hold it all anymore and let my thoughts cross all limits of penetration to reach out to you. I'm sorry for shattering your expectations. I'm sorry for having you to go through this financial drain on my studies. Trust me nobody in this world is feeling more guilty than me right now. I thank you with all my heart for everything that you've done for me. You deserve a better daughter than me , you really do. Maybe that daughter could have perfectly fulfilled all your dreams of having a doctor in the house but I'm sure she couldn't have loved both of you as perfectly as I do. I just want both of you to trust and support me just this one last time and I can assure you after that I can Make It Right.
    ©simranbawa

  • wanderwords 21w

    I was adored by
    the ruins that
    eloped with your damnation
    I could have left you
    Where you left me
    But the kindness
    Within wanted to
    be wild enough
    In the end
    You were adored
    by the blame
    Ruining you with metaphors
    And I stood there
    letting the scene unfold
    with a rueful smile on my face

    ~janvi

  • poornima_narula 23w

    Simply, complicated.

    Those brown hair strands that escape your bun to curl up near the mole on your cheek..
    or the tiny hands which can't cover mine completely..
    those kohl eyes which fear eye contacts
    or the lush pink lips which you accidently press under your teeth when I come closer...
    I wonder if it is something even more complicated,
    or maybe it's just the way your heart beats, that keeps pulling me closer..?
    ©poornima_narula

  • poornima_narula 24w

    Confession

    "Okay, maybe I have never said that you mean the world to me,
    but I got a confession to make, my love,
    the world is much more beautiful when you're here holding on to me."

  • thecomforttales 25w

    My inner soul once told me -
    "Never make anyone feel that you're always there for them; make them feel that you're always there when they need you.
    Never make anyone feel that you always take time out for them, make them feel that you always take time out when they need you."
    God! It hits differently...
    ©insanedialects

  • a_gentilischi 26w

    @pallavi4 I don't have answers to your questions.
    The only thing I can tell you is that you're not the only one who feels this way.
    I feel it too.
    And maybe, just maybe, others do too.

    This is just a rant..
    But aren't the rants the most honest words we can muster?



    ME & ME & ME

    I wage a war
    Against myself
    An eternal battle
    Where no one bends

    How can a war ever end
    When both you and the opponents
    Know every flaw and strength
    Within each other

    And so I'm (we are?) in stalemate
    That drains out all life

    One of me wants respect
    A good career
    Within the highest echelons
    Beholden (what an ugly word)
    To no one but myself
    Being my own mistress
    A person who breaks definitions
    Of what a woman is supposed to be
    No pathetic "yes, sir", "of course, sir"
    Just accepting the reluctant "yes, ma'am"

    One of me wants love
    A family to cherish
    A lover to warm
    Who warms me in turn
    Trust and mutual devotion
    Tender early mornings
    And soft, mellowed evenings
    With just a touch of magic
    From those fairy tales I read

    One of me wants freedom
    To heck with prissy corporate jobs
    To heck with Prince Charming's castle
    I want to see the sites
    Travel the world
    Pace for hours in the Uffizi gallery
    Write at sunset in quaint French villages
    Drink the flimsy loves that last but a night
    And live with no manacles
    No family, no lover, no home
    No caste, no race, no religion

    How can I feel all this?
    All at the same time
    Bubbling within me
    A volcano about to explode

    I wonder day and night
    Who is wrong and right?
    These questions have no answers
    At least not in plain sight

    I fear that in the end
    I'll just let time decide

    And I'll be a shape shifter
    Never concrete

    A flickering flame
    Growing brighter one second
    Then darkening the next
    Until one strong gust of wind blows
    Knocks me off the edge

    And the world burns
    So that...
    "I" and "I" and "I"
    Will burn too

    .


    2021.03.27
    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi
    PC:Pinterest


    #mirakee #writersnetwork
    @mirakee @writersnetwork
    #thoughts #life #words #dreams
    #confessions #secrets #questions
    #rant #musings #wonder

    Read More

    .

    ©a_gentilischi

  • dreamerdiva 30w

    At a certain point of time, I realised what I've become because of him.....A BETTER PERSON....and the sad part is that he doesn't know that.


    ©dreamerdiva

  • mr_enigma 31w

    Unsaid

    There are somethings that are left unsaid, some truths, some confessions, some goodbyes...stifled and silenced even though they had every right to be heard. But what if it wasn't that way, would things have been different? We may never know... Because we forced ourselves to believe that those are best left unsaid... right?

    ©mr_enigma

  • a_gentilischi 31w

    This is the fifth out of seven letters. This is a continuation of the first three letters. You can read them at #wbltsagent

    In this letter I refer to the 'Imaginary Prisons', which is a series of art prints by Venetian artist Giovanni Battista Piranesi. I've included an image of the first print for those who are curious in #fifthletterinfo

    This is long and I'm not sure if it makes sense, but yeah, did my best. ��


    Happy reading ��

    @writersbay many thanks for hosting this fantastic challenge. It's been a wonderful experience ������

    2021.02.19
    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi


    #ltnothumansc #letters
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
    @writersnetwork @writersbay
    #letter #wbltsagent #confessions
    #summer #oblivion #prison #change

    Read More

    -The fifth letter, found in an open prison cell-

    .
    To Oblivion,

    Some letters don't deserve sweet endearments. I have called you 'dear', have named you 'beloved' and I have declared you as a 'treasure'.

    But never have I addressed you as wholly mine.

    Today, I call you mine, in every sense of the word, because it is the day I have decided to be yours.
    Or rather, be you.
    Well, I guess those are just semantics.

    Thus, I name you Oblivion.
    My Oblivion, or your Oblivion?

    I'm beginning to understand that they are the same thing.
    You are no longer the ethereal stranger of a winter night, for when I show you a piece of my soul, you show me a piece of your own, as well.

    One day, I will find out who you are.
    Not yet, though. Right now, I'm busy tasting Oblivion.

    Here's the thing.
    Change is HARD.

    I never understood how difficult a process, metamorphosis was.

    Never did I consider the sheer amount of pain that Winter goes through in order to become Spring.

    I used to think stagnation was the only kind of prison.
    But not all prisons are blessed with the safety of four walls and a barred window.

    Change is the most ruthless jailer, for he wields Oblivion, instead of Chains.

    When you are in the prison of Oblivion and Change, you begin to crave the manacles, because they will keep you tethered. The bite of cold iron will cut your wrists, but what is a little blood, compared to the systematic break down of the life you built?

    We humans hold on to things so tightly, with no consideration to whether those things are good or bad for us. Maybe that's the only thing we know.

    And now, you've broken me out of one prison, and put me in another.

    I feel as if I'm a wanderer in Piranesi's Imaginary Prisons.
    There is no sense of time or direction. I'm simply drunk on vertigo.
    No warmth, no cold.
    The only thing I can feel is me, tearing down parts of my soul, opening doors, letting fresh air in to the musty rooms.

    The wide hallways echo with the cries of ghosts. They are the remnants of 'what had been's and 'what would have been's. Perhaps my own ghosts are here. Maybe your ones as well.

    But all prisons do have an ending, and that suggests that there is another beginning as well.

    After all, the end of an end is another beginning.

    With hope,
    A wanderer in search of beginnings.

    .
    ©a_gentilischi

  • a_gentilischi 31w

    Since seven letters are going to be written, I decided to write them as a continuous series. So give your thoughts on this. ��
    And, it's best if the first two letters are read beforehand. You can find them under #wbltsagent
    Happy reading ��

    Much love out to @writersbay for this amazing challenge that pushes our limits. ������



    2021.02.17
    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi

    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi

    #Ltseasonc #letters
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
    @writersnetwork @writersbay
    #letter #wbltsagent #confessions
    #summer #spring #winter

    Read More

    -The third letter, left where spring meets summer-

    .
    Treasured Summer,

    Can I call you Summer?
    You never told me your name, and well, this is what I've been calling you in my head. I hope you don't mind.

    At first it was because, when we met on that winter night, you looked so out of place. Only later did I realise that you weren't wearing any winter gear, even though it was freezing. I'm still not sure if you were a hallucination of an angel.

    Now I call you Summer, because you are MY summer.
    You're the inexorable force that drives my winter in to Spring, then, right in to your open arms.

    My dearest, you are the breeze that gave wings to my last letter.
    You are the sun that kisses the snow covered mountain tops, to make them lush and green.
    You chase away the barrenness that is the mistress of the dark cold.

    You, Summer, are the essence that I want to drown in, till every pore of my frostbitten body is suffused with the warmth of hope, till my body and soul are overflowing with it.

    But first I have to reach you.

    You reached out to me that first time. A child of summer, full of life, what were you doing crying on a winter night? Why did you taint yourself with the blizzards of vitriolic hatred?

    Was it for me?

    Winter has barely ended for me. But Spring is coming, I know it is. I can feel it in the way my heartbeat quickens, like the earth awakening from the slumber. My thoughts are stirring tentatively, like bulbs of daffodils, shivering in anticipation, exhilarated, and on the cusp of blooming.

    Darling, I know that summer doesn't last forever, but will you wait for me?

    Wait till the last traces of frost melt and I grow back sprigs of fresh leaves. Don't leave me until I'm heavy with blossom, a vision out of the riverbanks that Monet painted.

    Stay until my spring transcends in to the glorious summer of your embrace.

    My heart will meet yours at the place where Spring meets Summer.

    With love,
    Your Winter that is turning in to Spring

    .
    ©a_gentilischi

  • a_gentilischi 31w

    Since seven letters are going to be written, I decided to write them as a continuous series. So give your thoughts on this. ��
    And, it's best if the first letter is read beforehand. You can find it under #wbltsagent
    Happy reading ��

    And how can I not mention the creators of this fantastic challenge? Many thanks out to @writersbay . You guys rock. ������



    2021.02.16
    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi

    #Ltmusec #letters #forgiveness #pod
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
    @writersnetwork @writersbay
    #letter #wbltsagent #confessions

    Read More

    -The second letter, floated in a summer wind-

    .
    Beloved Muse,

    It's me again. We met on a cold winter night in the park, remember? We both cried that night, but for different reasons.
    I hope you got my previous letter. I left it on the park bench, where we first met.

    I've been thinking about what you said that night.

    I've been holding on to your words.
    Let me be clear.
    I've been holding on to YOU.

    You told me not to get used to the cold. But, to do that, I need to remember the warmth first.

    Yet, no matter how hard I try, I can't bring it to my mind… Can't seem to picture a time when I wasn't shivering in the storm of an unforgiving world that was frozen.

    My heart was broken, but I made it whole. I closed those cracks, not with tissues and vessels of hope, but with shards of ice. Because that was all I had, then. Those jagged pieces are the pain and desolation of river Styx, solidified in to black onyx and forced it to the crevices of my gaping heart.

    Of course, I tried to forgive.

    But it didn't work out for me in the ways that the others promised it would. I did everything they said. I read the manual from beginning to end, and I didn't skip the steps. Where did I go wrong? Was it me or them?

    From what I know, forgiveness is not a game of hopscotch played on haphazard squares of a bleeding heart. It has no rhyme or reason to its flow.

    Maybe there's no right way to forgive.

    Those self-help books told me nothing worthwhile.
    "Forgive and forget", it's easy for them to say, when I'm the one left stranded in the ashes of the aftermath.

    But, then I met you.

    One whisper from you was worth more than a dozen "How to forgive and start living" books.

    You didn't tell me to forget.
    Your tears were warm, and they spoke of acceptance, as your shaking hands clutched mine.

    Now, I feel the pieces of my heart shifting.

    The ice is melting, leaking fat drops of black ink, that splash like scars across the white paper. My heart is still broken, but there is a beauty to these scars, for they sing of cerulean oceans and freedom.
    I haven't felt this way in a long time.

    Thank you for being my muse.

    Last night I wrote of warm summer winds.
    Now I send this letter on the tendrils of its wake.

    With love,
    A broken hearted stranger who has begun to feel the warmth


    .
    ©a_gentilischi

  • a_gentilischi 32w

    Many thanks out to @writersbay for this delightful challenge.
    ������


    2021.02. 15
    Written rights : ©a_gentilischi

    #Ltstrangerc #letters
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #writersbay
    @writersnetwork @writersbay
    #letter #wbltsagent #confessions

    Read More

    -The first letter, which was left on a park bench-

    .
    Dear Stranger,

    I don't know if you remember me. But I remember you so very clearly.

    We met a few days ago, in the park. Right now, I'm looking at the bench where we sat together, from my apartment's balcony, as I write.
    It's snowing again tonight. Not as much as the day we met though.
    But still, I'm used to the cold.

    You asked me how I could stand the cold. No one has ever asked me that before. Why was it that the most important question of my life was shown to me by a mere stranger? It terrified me, so I gave a non committal answer, but you were persistent.
    And, so you made me ponder one of the biggest questions of my life that night.

    The truth is, I couldn't bring myself to talk to you. It was hard enough to look straight in your eyes that treasured kindness. I was a parched desert, to your oasis.
    You were so beautiful.

    The snowflakes that caught on the dark strands of your hair, were like a thousand stars on a moonless night. You were a queen, crowned in starlight. Your cheeks were painted crimson from the cold, and I couldn't keep my eyes off you, no matter how hard I tried.
    And your eyes…they were a deep brown, and they held such secrets in their depths. To look in to them was to see earth embracing creation.

    You looked as if you knew me, the real ME. Not this pathetic effigy that I've showcased for public consumption. Because that's all that people know how to do…consume.
    But you were different.

    "How do you stand the cold?"

    Breathless silence. Then, unbidden, the answer tripped out of my freezing lips.
    "You get used to it after a while"

    That was when you started to cry, hot tears running down your cheeks. And then, I was crying too.
    You touched my hands, and your warmth was like a brand of fire upon my palms.

    "Never get used to the cold". That was your fervent whisper, as you walked away. It is echoing through me, even now.

    Who are you?
    I don't even know an address to send this letter over to, so I'm going to leave it on the bench we sat.

    I want to see you again. I want you to ask me your questions, one at a time. I promise I won't flinch from your eyes next time.

    With love,
    The stranger who cried next to you, on a winter night.


    .
    ©a_gentilischi

  • _so_nal 139w

    Can we just make a call to anyone?
    Tell them about the day, the previous day ,the emotions and the things running in your mind and heart. Confessing literally everything you ever wanted to say.
    And in response the person just listens and cuts the call when you get over.


    <Feeling right now>


    #heartfelt #confessions #deepthought
    #mirakee

    Read More

    Its good to be a happy dramatic fun- go person.
    No one gets to know about problems and the sad part of your life or probably you never wanted them to know.

    But at some point it would've been good if the other person knew the struggles you faced or currently facing. Because maybe you want them to know the irony of that dramatic smile, the emotions hiding behind a dance.You want them to know that you are literally crying your heart out and its not a scene of any dramatic movie instead your own life.
    ©_so_nal