Words Unspoken

My heart is a gun, held by a coward, Drawn but not loaded, it might even be broken, But I still hold it. When my mind's gone, it's my only power, Giving fake hope when my cards are folded, Just for a moment. But it's enough when I'm alone, It's the cement of every poem To fill gaps and take hold. Every circuit, every cold ending, Stops before sending, Every wrong message full of the right meaning, Never done retreating. Eating away all possible outlets, Feeding the current, Bleeding from cuts that cut deep into the Meaning.