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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:33:09 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 146772
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Untouched
[time] => 2008-12-11 13:44:49
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => There were no embraces in our house. Touch was a dead language reserved for the cornerstones of life. Funeral exchanges of uncommon feelings. The fumbling with unknown phrases, stumbling pronunciations of unused emotions. As foreign to us as a Latin mass. Exclusion zones of sovereignty protecting depths unknown and feared. Arguments that turned our skin when we passed too close. Later I learned to speak the silent syllables of tenderness. As a refugee grasps at phrases that secure survival. Formed the words with an immigrant’s gratitude. As if every touch reclaimed time lost. As if civilization returned with each caress. Copyright [comments] => 2 [counter] => 140 [topic] => 48 [informant] => motorgyre [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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