So much of what we live goes on inside– <br />The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches <br />Of unacknowledged love are no less real <br />For having passed unsaid. What we conceal <br />Is always more than what we dare confide. <br />Think of the letters that we write our dead.<br /><br />Dana Gioia<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unsaid/
