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Frail Flower


Withering, Friday morning, thin and silent as a fence rail. As the earth trembled beneath me. My alone companion, longing. Thick with thirst. Broken heart, promises, and faith. Smothering, she's invisible. My throat chocked as I groan. She is young and hurt. In spite of the pain, she left me.
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Comments (1)

levinc
<p>I love the simplicity of your poem. What I like the most about this poem is how you can read between the lines- it's the silence and empty spaces between your words that make it truly remarkable. I think too many poets try to fill the empty spaces to the brim, but I&nbsp;believe that those kind of poems may indicate a very scattered mind,&nbsp;perhaps being out of touch&nbsp;with&nbsp;emotions and too in touch with worries and doubts of the mind. You, on the other hand seem to be very in touch with your inner being.&nbsp;To me, it is clear that&nbsp;your confidence shines through here because you are not afraid of the silence as so many people are. You are courageous. Thank you.</p>

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