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To love I do not weep
for its hands do not caress
and its voices do not soothe
this tender heart of mine,
bruised and black.
To compassion I do not cry
with the lingering scent of lies.
hidden smiles, masked with empathy
A choke on my throat,
dried tears on my cheeks.
YOU ARE READING
poems with no names
Poetry❝ and I shall sing, with sweetened elation, these poems with no names. these poems of us.❞