Would Silence Be The Writer?
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Language is perhaps the only way
To reach the deep inner recesses
But deaf heart hardly gets perturbed
By the effusive string of words
If I rummaged through the vocabulary
Still unused in my love confessions
How many words would I still dig out
That might stir the depths of a glacier
Would silence be the new writer
Of the bond that failed to name itself
May be silence would be the perfect epilogue
Where words failed to structure a plot.
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