State Of Wakefulness
M
Marieta Maglas
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When you look at me,
My painful thinking stops and turns into tears.
Your unsaid words are still waiting,
Uttered to be expressed,
By cramming into the palate.
I know them all,
As you know your fingers,
Which touches me tenderly,
While they send me the thrill of separation.
Poem by Marieta Maglas
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