Stabbing at Words

These words are too hungry
for my soul's peace,
for I know that when
innuendos of that one
emancipated day
come, I won't be the same
stuff of their talk,
and there will be no more
bruises of conscience,
because I'll be

facing a new
unwritten heart.

And this courage I've
bottled up and thrown
into the river,
a dozen times
when the moon was
nodding off in
unconsciousness
and I thought I could
surrender to it,

will be brought here...

and all the rest
of the words' last thought
will no longer bleed in me.

Written 6/24/2012.