Memories

Memories

I couldn’t sense her. Her skin was as pale as the life I’d been living. Her eyes were cold, as they sent shivers down my spine. It was a winter night, but my body was hot. Sweating in all my shame and indignity, I whispered her name. No call out for help, because it was over. No finishing screams, because I ended it. I ended her life and all the dreams she kept with her. I kissed her softly, and then walked away with the last piece of the puzzle. My memories.

As I wandered down the street, many things were going through my mind. The cars passing were merely a gradual distraction at an attempt to make me forget what happened. The street lights were a replica of the knife’s stem and shimmering sharp point. My heart was oil on water, separated from my body. It felt like someone was beating the heart inside this cold empty shell, making these decisions for me.

In this world, there is always someone to talk to, look up to...

But I don’t live in this world, I live in my own. In my world no one is there, nobody cares if you are scared of life itself. You are just a feather on an eagle, similar to them all. No one’s different. Everyone thinks the same thoughts or wants the same things. Hearts beat at the same pace, except for the one who doesn’t think like the rest. Me. I’m only 16 years old but I’ve been through the worst. I don’t want the same thing they want. The heart inside of this shell doesn’t beat the same way theirs does. I’m sorry I stopped hers from beating, but I thought it was the only way I could get what I wanted.


By: TrueBlueWriter

Hello. Welcome to YWS.

Er... First, did you really mean to post this in the Dramatic poetry section? There are various sections for prose works, you see. Perhaps when you have explored this site a little. This could be moved into one of the fiction sections.

Comments on this piece... It may be because it is too short but I don't think the plot is developed too well. It's rather difficult to understand but perhaps that is how you meant it to be. It strikes me as a blurb, honestly. Rather like there's a much longer and developed story beneaththe words but this short piece is what shall entice you to read the rest of it. The word choices, the descriptions are all very good. Your words would make a great poem out of this if you can convert it to one.

My suggestions would either be to expand this piece or to convert it into poetry.

It was a great read.

Again, welcome here. Feel free to PM me if ya need anything or wish to talk about anything.

--Knightly

I agree that this really didn't feel like a poem. It seemed to me more like a prologue to a story. I get the part that he killed the girl but I'm a little confused on the emotion coming from the narrator. Are you not showing his regret until the end on purpose?

In this world, there is always someone to talk to, look up to...

The way that put this line in bold and made it separate suggests that it's somehow important but it's doesn't really mesh well with the rest of the piece in my opinion.

I did find it very interesting though. It made me want to know what was going on. I think the piece is great. It just doesn't seem like a poem.