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.