Young Writers Society

she's a liar like me

you broke your heart again today
as you did yesterday, and the day before.
contrite are you who lets lips swoon
words in which you never meant; sickly
and delightfully sweet, as this moment
without care that each crack
takes away your petty resolve
and leaves but a chaste kiss of mourning,
or that burnt cup of coffee, warm
enough to melt your frozen arteries
but not enough to wake you.

stop it, stop it. you’re doing it again.
see what you’ve done? a tear --
a ripped sheet of printer paper.
a crushed, blotting cartridge, dear.
such a spoiled canvas, yearning to be used
and they’ll use you, hun, they’ll use you
like a disposable camera; its what you’re worth
to them, to you. to everyone who sees
through those empty, senseless eyes
and into the hardening clay
of your cracking, caving soul

tell him, dear. scare him away
and then he’ll stop hurting you, and such
is the hopes I have for you, for me
if you could only see, the world
for everything it is; everything it could be
and everything it will never be for you.
but sweet is nothingness, remorseless,
for your cup is draining now.
so very little left to drink, darling
from your waning sense of self
tell him, and you’ll be free.

tell him and I’ll be free.

you broke your heart again today
as you did yesterday, and the day before.
contrite are you who lets lips swoon
words in which you never meant; sickly
and delightfully sweet, as this moment < I like this
without care that each crack
takes away your petty resolve
and leaves but a chaste kiss of mourning,
or that burnt cup of coffee, warm
enough to melt your frozen arteries
but not enough to wake you.

stop it, stop it. you’re doing it again. Not sure how I feel about this line....
see what you’ve done? a tear --
a ripped sheet of printer paper.
a crushed, blotting cartridge, dear. Love it.
such a spoiled canvas, yearning to be used
and they’ll use you, hun, they’ll use you
like a disposable camera; its what you’re worth
to them, to you. to everyone who sees
through those empty, senseless eyes
and into the hardening clay
of your cracking, caving soul Also very good couple of lines.

tell him, dear. scare him away
and then he’ll stop hurting you, and such
is the hopes I have for you, for me
if you could only see, the world
for everything it is; everything it could be
and everything it will never be for you.
but sweet is nothingness, remorseless,
for your cup is draining now.
so very little left to drink, darling
from your waning sense of self
tell him, and you’ll be free.

tell him and I’ll be free.

Overall this was a really good poem, and I liked the imagery that was embedded in it while it also appealed emotionally. Don't have anything to complain about, really...keep writing!
StoryWeaver

you broke your heart again today cliche
as you did yesterday, and the day before.
contrite are you who lets lips swoon a bit sentimental, perhaps, but interesting
words in which you never meant; sickly
and delightfully sweet, as this moment try to avoid adverb/adjectives. they're like potholes
without care that each crack
takes away your petty resolve
and leaves but a chaste kiss of mourning,
or that burnt cup of coffee, warm this, for me, is when I really became intrigued.
enough to melt your frozen arteries I like this but try being even more visceral
but not enough to wake you.

stop it, stop it. you’re doing it again.
see what you’ve done? a tear --
a ripped sheet of printer paper.
a crushed, blotting cartridge, dear.
such a spoiled canvas, yearning to be used
and they’ll use you, hun, they’ll use you
like a disposable camera; its what you’re worth
to them, to you. to everyone who sees
through those empty, senseless eyes
and into the hardening clay
of your cracking, caving soul this whole second stanza was a bit confusing

tell him, dear. scare him away
and then he’ll stop hurting you, and such
is the hopes I have for you, for me
if you could only see, the world
for everything it is; everything it could be
and everything it will never be for you.
but sweet is nothingness, remorseless,
for your cup is draining now.
so very little left to drink, darling
from your waning sense of self
tell him, and you’ll be free.

tell him and I’ll be free. do you need this last line? it feels too much like it's meant to wrap everything up with a neat little bow.

notice the most interesting parts of your poem are the most concrete. you want to be as specific as possible in order to ground your reader/listener into the situation. as I read I was a little confused as to what exactly was going on. keep in mind that there is a difference between ambiguity and confusion. the burnt coffee and the frozen arteries are both great images, I just wish that you used more images in the second and third stanzas.

also, the title, I think it could do a lot more work in the poem in terms of eliminating confusion. perhaps a title that sets the scene would be appropriate.