Epitaphs.
For the words
I smothered 
into oblivion.
When I left them
Unspoken.

Feelings.
I understand 
in ways
you never will. 

Understanding.
I feel
in ways
you will never
fathom.

Heartbeats.
Forming speech.
Slow, rhythmic.
Dense, heavy.
And sometimes,
in places we deny,
furious, desperate,
afraid.

And so,I write.

In my writing,
they bleed through
the yet undiscovered cracks
into existence,
and live.

No one ever tells you
It's quite so red
That crimson stream.

It's sudden, really.
You needn't go as deep 
as you think.

Almost as if it's been waiting
Pulsing
Flowing
For this moment of escape.

It flows.
Freely
Joyfully
Let loose at last,
A red river of pain
and relief.

Relief.
That the noises of the world
And the louder ones in your head
Didn't win.

Relief.
That you didn't wait
Like a stubborn child
To fight another day.

But most of all,
Relief.
That the sin of you living
Will no longer be borne
By the sin of you not dying.