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I pressed the last red
flower you gave me, in a...
by Felipe Gomez
His heart so tiny and small
a heart you can barely see at all...
by Em (marmite)
by Golden AnGel Rhapsodist
I'm not flattered by alluring words
Or deceived by generous moves...
I am lonely
I am so lonely...
Hushed, now the voice
Silenced, the whispers...
The saddest tears are the driest ones seen in the bravest smile.
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.
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.