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your silent voice
i read your poem
the one you put in my pocket
and i'm being honest when
i say
i can't tell you
what i thought
i read your poem
with my lazy, sleepy eyes
you told me exactly
how things were
and i felt
nothing
i'm looking for
the poet
whose inner voice catches my heart
by the sleeve, and
pulls me under its
warm coat, on a cold night
i've never had those
sweet moments with you
we can't talk about everything
that ever crossed our minds
i touched your jacket and
brushed your hair from your face,
but i still felt lonely when
you were there
so i sent you a reply,
on a poem i otherwise would have kept
sacred.
Caitlin Crowley is a young author from Eden Prairie, MN. She
goes to high school, where she plays clarinet, and is planning
to join the cross country team. Other than writing, she enjoys
swimming and reading poems by Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski,
T.S. Eliot, Pablo Neruda, and more. |
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