Unuttered.

Unuttered words hang
still
midair
filling the chasm gaping between
two halves of a broken
still
beating
heart.

Wordless rending
sounds
echo
from ragged edges, secrets
untold - spilling without
sounds,
harmlessly
falling silent.

No use now.
No purpose in sharing.
No hungry bonds to feed painful recollections and sacred triumphs.
No thrumming resonance making the awkward natural.
No point, then.
No use.

Memory wraps voice in
quiet
miserable
fear without discernable end,
leaving dulled points and
quiet
grief
unuttered.