My Haven

There’s a beautiful room in my head
Where I keep all the nice things you say,
Each wrapped in the tissue of memory
And put securely away.

Then when you speak words in anger,
I close and lock the small door,
And the words leave no more impression
Than one wave on a rocky shore.

January 27, 1940

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Just Burned Up

Why do I sit and smolder with rage?
Why do tears, for no reason, fall
Like sizzling water dropped on a hot iron,
Not cooling my anger at all?

March 16, 1941