What lips my lips have kissed by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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"What lips my lips have kissed" by Edna St. Vincent Millay While reading "What lips my lips have kissed" by Edna St. Vincent Millay, I realized many things about myself. The first thing was that I, after thinking I would never be able to decipher one word of poetry, actually could. I also found that I was able to enjoy it. Another thing was that the narrator (whom I felt was a woman- no man could portray these feelings like a woman) and I had strikingly similar feelings. There happened to be many other amazing findings, but these two were the first and most important to me. Yes, learning that I could truly enjoy poetry was an amazing, but also, a highly involved discussion. One I would rather focus on at another time. I would, though, like to elaborate on the profound similarity I felt in with the feeling of the narrator. There have been many times in my life where I have done something that I am not proud of. (Most of these dealing with the men in my life.) Instead of working out whatever or whoever the issue might have been, I push it as far away into my memory as possible. This way I don¡¯t have to think about it. This tactic works very well. I truly don¡¯t remember faces, names or dates of these men. Then there are those days, those rainy lonely days, when these memories or as Millay refers to them, ¡°ghosts¡± come ¡°tapping at my window and wait for me to give them a reply.¡± It is these kinds of days when the ¡°ghosts¡± force you to reflect upon them and don¡¯t lea...
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