
I have known for a while
but feared looking
at the solid words
etched already,
I feel with my fingers,
it has already been years
since we lived
looking
together.
Image by Philip Hermogenes Calderon (1881) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
For every poem I put here, there are four more never shared, around six never written and twenty-seven partially thought out. For every word...
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