Each and every thing cuts wounds,
and neither of us has forgiven the other.
Hurting like you and hurtful,
I lived towards you.
Every touch augments
the pure, the spiritual touch;
we experience it as we age,
turned into coldest silence.
Bruderschaft
Ingeborg Bachmann
(1)
Poem topics: silence, pure, experience, spiritual, touch, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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