Close to my ear,
I can just barely hear
Your gentile tears.
Like a peaceful rain
Or a secret told at night
They are not so much
Heard
As they are
Known.
I would whisper comforts,
Let you know,
I know,
But they go unsaid
Yet not unknown.
Age 16
_As I hold the phone
Close to my ear, I can just barely hear Your gentile tears. Like a peaceful rain Or a secret told at night They are not so much Heard As they are Known. I would whisper comforts, Let you know, I know, But they go unsaid Yet not unknown. Age 16 This work by whatwordscannotexpress.weebly.com is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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Grieving a Loss;
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