I give my confessions
In all honesty.
In complete acceptance.
Words spoken like an Act of Contrition
as I unveil my sins.
other times in tangled narratives
given in a rush of spleen
as I peel away the last vestiges of false image.
A veneer so sweet it made my teeth ache.
The insistence of honey over vinegar
made more palatable by convention.
The spicy, savory, and sometimes sour
a whisky burn
not for the faint of heart.
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