I lie on your table. The calligraphic ink stopped abruptly as you left, keeping the pen beside me. My pages slowly flip in response to the fan’s gentle lullaby. I’m filled with your stories,secrets and desires. You know I treasure them and won’t spill them out. But I really wished there was a way you could know about my feelings, my secrets too.
It’s sunday. She’s going to visit today. I wish I could tell her how I feel. That I have fallen in love with her, her troubles, tears and eyes. Morals and duty dictate that I shouldn’t tread this path. But something unknown is giving me strength to finally express my love today. Waiting in this confession room, I am, the Father of this Church.