Regret
The dark hides, shrouds hidden secret in nothingness. The black swallows lingering emotion, the unshed tears in broad daylight. With the lights off, the conflicts tumble out from the abyss of the heart through the esophagus out into the silent black in choked cries. Pitiful, pathetic whimpers of pain. Pain no one would, should, could hear. A mouthful of linen, rough cotton texture against the tongue, tasting every stitch, tracing the pattern; a muffled sob. The torture so great, so horrible, the skin stretches tight above the eyes, oh such swollen, sad, sick eyes, filled with salt bathed in water. Let the salt dry, leaving traces of the battle within. In the pitch dark, there is nothing to hide, nothing to hide from. The dark is an ally. A friend. A listener who does not judge. Let those words free, let them take flight from that hot cavern, let them escape through that set of cracked guardsmen, let the dark embrace them. Yes. Without the glare of judgment, the burn of embarrassment, reveal your secret which has agonized you, tormenting and twisting your guts. Be free of those parasites. The night shall carry these burdens into the land of nothingness. Nothing at all.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."