Is it selfish to cling to those who have gone?
To wish for his strong arms when darkness falls,
Or his hand to help me along the street,
Soft lips for a kiss every time we meet?
The sharing of memories that each recalls.
I need the warmth of his body close to mine.
Time passes, yet the pain won’t go away.
He should be here, to wipe away my tears;
My love, my protector against my fears.
Why did you die, beloved? Could you not stay?
Is it self-indulgence, or merely a dream?
That such a life as ours could never cease
To hope once again to hear the soft voice
That spoke my name. So, I now have a choice;
To mourn forever or to live at peace.
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Comments about this poem (Selfishness by Irene ClarkHogg )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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