I live in these words

I live in these words.  These poems.  These lines.  No melodies.  No rhymes.  Mere words on a page.  Mere memories of what I thought life was meant to be.  Was meant for me.  Now I realize that with each line I write is my life.  My heartbeats.  My blood flowing from the page.  The embers of my burned out soul.  Each coal a word on the page.  Each ash a part of my life I lost along the way.  And with the loss I write yet again.  To remind me of what I am.  Who I am.  Whom I have hurt along the way.  To warn me against making that mistake again.  Though I know each time I am drawn in by their love I will hurt them and ultimately hurt me.  And yet again the words will flow from me.  The poems mere words on a page.