I am quiet

Focused on the fucking heart
that has been jumping out
of my throat. That skin I’ve
kept trying to change.

I am quiet.

Which doesn’t mean silent,
but rather finally
able to feel the scream.
How sometimes
it felt like choking on
coagulated clots.
Even in moments I loved.
Ones I felt full of sound.

The cage held me.
It said “be this way.”

I wanted to howl
at the cold slated sky
in a reckless purge of wind
and tunneled power.

But even in that force,
I am quiet; still.

And, still.

In the pulse of

I have been bloodletting.
I am drained.
All white. All words.

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