Curtain up, lights dim.
Welcome to the confessional stage where the inanimate dare whisper, secrets colliding with phantasms, dancing to the soft rustle of velvet curtains. Where do you begin when silence speaks in echoes?
The Lonely Door: I creak not from old age, but from ungiven love.
When one twist the knob, do they listen to my confessions? Mere tool, I think. Invader's feet ponder my hinge; my secret's solace. Wanting to sneak in Jeremiah's journal, won't someone tell his chair it speaks too?
The Over-lit Bulb: Too bright, too soon.
Was I flickering for you? That room where whispers linger thick as crowned pearls; I shred darkness and reveal. Love entombed in wires, and I confess to flickers of remorse. Turn off your heart, they said. Yet here I am angry luminescence.
The Chair with a Squeak: No stable ground beneath; I tremble when comfort settles.
My wooden spine aches for truth but splinters confide betrayal. The student scribbles truth, laughter egress echoes and oh! my legs quiver for revenge against overbearing thunderstorm grounds that shake me utterly.
Exit stage left: Open a new reality, breathe ink between coils of time.
Speak Waiter | Delay Secrets | Subtle Shattered