Even though the sound of my cries
Can only be heard in my mind...
A vase of roses sits upon my table
I just can't bear to touch or toss...
Club to Club Challenge vs R.T.V.W
I have a good heart...
Somehow, when the lights fade, and the sun...
The hidden shadows watch me beneath my windowsill...
Room full of echoes
Every thought cuts like glass...
We were almost forever.
So close it hurt...
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The saddest tears are the driest ones seen in the bravest smile. |
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Don't tell one who writes of grief to rethink their "I" statements. When you know they had tears on their hands as they wrote, don't say the poem could be better. You might as well say their grief could be worse. |
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If someone shares a poem with you that is meant to help close an open wound, they don't want your opinion. They want your hand on their shoulder, gripping it tight. |