Whispering Ink

A tourniquet made of ink Aiding in the healing of my wounds Collecting my virulent pain, it sinks Filling an open vein, it flows through Spilling swirls of raven's blood like droplets Upon the bare skin of an empty leaf Forming words that, like a spell, Begin to lift me from my grief With the final verse firmly pressed A found breath escapes my breast And like a hurried kiss Is courted by the dancing breeze With the ink almost dry My heart sets to ease Written upon the page My soul's release