Untitled (To Every Word I’ve Wanted to Say)

A dull pain like something left unsaid,
The words still fluttering in your throat
Wanting to burst free
But they’ll be left out to perish in the cold
And you’d rather suffer than witness their death throes,
Lamenting an existence that never stood a chance. 

Put it out of its misery!
But what of your own?
To do so would be like confessing their lack of worth
When they still meant something to you.
You’re killing yourself so they have more time
But time is all we have and soon you’ll have none.

Let them go, let them perish
And look upon them as they expire
But know that even in death,
They weren’t ever worthless.
These are your words still,
You gave them their meaning

And you will not be robbed of that privilege.
Even as they pass,
They will be reborn
And the knowledge you carry now
Will give rise to an even greater life.
From beauty to ash, it will return. 

-k.r.r.