My confession

[fluttering-by.livejournal.com]

Title: My confession
Author: chrisita
Pairing: DM/BB
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Fiction. False. Lies. Not true. Never happened.
Words: 508, song lyrics not included
Warnings: Mmm... Unbeta’ed, which is quite scary when I’ve written something. And... A tad angsty, I think.
Author’s note: Birthday ficlet for elvea87, and yes, I know I didn’t had to write something, but I WANTED to. The song lyrics are written by a Richard Page, and taken from the cd “Closer” with Josh Groban (he was in an episode of Ally McBeal, if anyone think they’ve seen his name before. You have). The song I listened to when writing this fic was, however, not My confession, but Oceano, also sung by Josh Groban, found on the same cd. The lyrics for Oceano is in Italian, so lord knows what I really was listening to. Could be anything. It sounded great, though.

Happy birthday, Elvea!




I have been blind
Unwilling
To see the true love
You’re giving
I have ignored every blessing
I’m on my knees
Confessing...

That I feel myself surrender
Each time I see your face
I am staggered by your beauty
Your unassuming grace
And I feel my heart is turning
Falling into place
I can’t hide it now hear my confession

I have been wrong about you
I thought I was strong without you
For so long
Nothing could change me

Now I feel myself surrender
Each time I see your face
I am captured by your beauty
Your unassuming grace
And I feel my heart is turning
Falling into place
I can’t hide it
Now hear my confession

You are the air that I breathe
You’re the ground beneath my feet
When did I stop believing?




My confession

It goes like this. Like a song. All rhytm and music. Like drums, like hearts. Beating, being beaten out of me, unwilling to leave me like a child unwilling to leave its mother. Who can blame it? Who can blame me? It’s lived in me for so long now, blind and unwilling as I’ve been, it haven’t left my lips, though it has lived in my mouth for a while now. Waiting to leave, but not given permission to do so. Till now. This is my confession.

Silent. You are silent. You always are. Always silent. Always listening. Listening to me. Not listening to what I say, because what I say is not worth listening to. What you listen to, is me. Silent you listening to silent me, and it makes perfect sense. And now you are listening to my confession. Listening to my chosen blindness and unwillingness fading away. I cannot go on like this, it was inevitable.

You must have known, but how? How did you know? Where did you find patience? So many years, and you’ve always been there listening. You’re almost done now. Done listening to silent reassurments, as I now will speak freely, and not hindered by myself anymore.
I don’t know how I knew. No. That is not true. I have always known. But I don’t know when I saw. Maybe it’s a bit like giving in. Giving in to you, and it is the best thing I have ever done. It feels so right. Like coming home. Clichè. But true. You are my home. You, only you. You know that, that you are my home, but you don’t see other things as easily as that. Beauty. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and you see the same as I see, yet not the same at all. You are beautiful. Shining, glittering, gleaming, beaming, beautiful. Quiet. Quiet beauty, lying within, seen by those who see. By me. Finally.

Hear my confession.

I have been so so wrong. Wrong about you. I couldn’t see me, and by that, I never saw you. For that I am sorry. But without that blindness I wouldn’t have this. I wouldn’t have you lying next to me now. Wouldn’t have your head resting on my shoulder, your nose buried in the hollow between my neck and collar bone, your breath against my skin, not your lashes fluttering over the skin just beneath my ear, not your arm under my head, your hands on my upper arm and my hip, not your thigh over mine. You wouldn’t be here. I would’ve ruined it. Ruined with recklessness.

But you’re here. Here. Here with me.

I never found strenght unless by you. Your presence, you voice, you shadows in my everyday life, shining through when I needed you around, you were there. Always. Years, and you were there, in every way except the one we just found.

You’re the air that I breathe
You’re the ground beneath my feet

Always there.

When did I stop believing?