🌹🧡Like a thorn in the heart
the unspoken things,
they flee from the eyes and have wings that burn.
the unspoken things are hanging in the air
with clothespins of notes
that await serious.
They have sighs of wind in a sunny market,
a score torn and wet with ink,
the only refuge,
silence,
because the unspoken things don't end,
they don't start but,
torment the soul.🧡💖💗💕💓💘💞💝
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