Confess You’ll Hurt Me

In a booth, she shuddered with sobs
giving the priest a confession
through a labored, snotty,
voice of cracked words,
smoldering with a euphoric high,
believing her hitman pulled off
the hit.
A Catholic girl cast a spell
written in her crinkled gaze.
We locked eyes like words
inked on the horizon;
we embraced our insecurity.
My heart of stone
melted the boiling indignation,
cooling a soft breeze with autumn leaves.
What’s holy battles affinity, but a stoic lie
swaps a goodbye.
I’m the priest
she tried to kill,
listening to her tell me how sorry she was;
at least I’m good at something.
“I knew it was you,” she said in a flirtatious voice.
“I’m glad to be alive.”

(© 2022 AC)

(WattpadAmazon KindleSpillwordsThe Writers Club)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s