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The eyes have a face, unto themselves, sincerities confessional As the ears trace the mind, weary and irksome shames, knowing the hearts flutters, pausing the wrapping of the heart. Deciding what may be seen, she is a tragedy, unveiling
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Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
I Have Not Spoken, Yet She....
The eyes have a face, unto themselves, sincerities confessional As the ears trace the mind, weary and irksome shames, knowing the hearts flutters, pausing the wrapping of the heart. Deciding what may be seen, she is a tragedy, unveiling
This is a poem about the discovery of trust and examination of eachothers empathy
Written by
44/M/california
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
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