So much of what we live goes on inside–
The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches
Of unacknowledged love are no less real
For having passed unsaid. What we conceal
Is always more than what we dare confide.
Think of the letters that we write our dead.
Hi Dana, You speak of secrets and untold sorrows... Again, great writing and an interesting analysis. Your poems are so heart-warming, glaringly true, and my absorption of their meaning comes naturally and harmoniously. I don't have to make an effort to follow your thoughts... How true you are! Deva
What we conceal Is always more than what we dare confide. Think of the letters that we write our dead. ................................. Magnificently unique. This first time perhaps I do feel the real exposure of 'Conceal' and 'Confide' by its difference of meaning. Extraordinarily different the poem. Fantastic choice for projecting by PH. Thanks.
Brilliant presentation. Meaningful and didactive. Thanks for sharing.
Meaningful write. We can't always express our heart and mind before others. We go to our graves with so many secrets about ourselves and others. Nice and congrats.
Reminds me of the song SOME THINGS ARE BETTER LEFT UNSAID popularized by HALL and OATES...Thanks for posting.....