Below is the poem entitled Analysis of what was not said which was written by poet
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the manuscripts are in the head,my dear.
each time we fought,i scribble more.
one day it became arranged
when i was away from you,
and the next day i will publish
my hurt all over you-
in the form of distaste.
you ask why i am always quiet:
i can't let the original fall
into seasons to become snow,
fallen leaves,crisp buds,
unusual flowers i didn't want.
i must plan them,so when it's done-
the mistake is long buried inside
with only cutting edges for an uneasy
hold for you.
you will never find that
manuscript,for i run from you
to hide myself from myself.