What Goes Unsaid
He looks at her without speaking,
gives her books.
She smokes and reads
the small scraps of papers
signed his name.
They speak publicly, politely.
They are never alone.
Just once,
he held her
hands at their parting
pressed her gently with his palms
and let her go.
gives her books.
She smokes and reads
the small scraps of papers
signed his name.
They speak publicly, politely.
They are never alone.
Just once,
he held her
hands at their parting
pressed her gently with his palms
and let her go.
wow i can relate. sounds like my relationship with my father and with the men that have come and gone in my life.
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