she wrote.

she wrote words that no one besides her knew,
she wrote feelings that no one besides her felt,
and she spelled those words out at night, when she
couldn't sleep, so that maybe the next day she'd
have the courage to speak

she never spoke.

she never spoke about the thoughts she had
she never spoke about the itchy red lines that lined her thighs
she never spoke to the boy at the back of the class who
loved both guys and girls and who never wanted to get hurt
so he never spoke either

but they both wrote.

they both wrote about abuse, a five letter word that had
been stitched onto their skin with an iron needle and a a fist full
of scissors and the words we'll never make it

she never spoke. he never slept. but they both wrote
their suicide letters with felt ink pen.

(h.l.)