Often when I write I do not write.

Nor do I speak or voice my thoughts.

I do. That’s who I am. In the face

Of all I hold true. I do.

 

So when the hurt hurts my heart

Often when I write I do not write

The knife twists deeper

Ever so slowly that I cannot weep.

 

Cry some tears to ease the pain

Cry a river to live again? I cannot.

Often when I write I do not write

Of all the times I slip, or fall.

 

I try to forget to ease this hurt

And fail. And flail at crutches

With no relief. How, then, can I heal,

When, often, I write but do not write?