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by Monik Smith
I like to be left alone
But when people don't notice I'm...
18 years have passed
without you by my side...
The bright crimson rose
Bloomed fully well in the season...
I thought it was complacency
Stole my passion for the dramatic...
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.