Daydreaming of Imperfection

I wash my mouth with Windex windows, day dreaming
of head lights-shattering in the hills like honey
flavored fireflies. I paint you with an etch-a-sketch,
coloring in your cheeks with bleeding mangos.
my soles lazily trod among the mountain
trails, and I try to find you in the cloudless skies’ designs.

Eight legs patter across my forehead, spinning spools and designs:
connecting my freckles like stars in a midnight daydream.
We search for crevices, like pock marks in the mountains’
skin. It swallows us whole, and we drown in its honey
complexion. So, we both drip like starving mangos
leaving only our pits to dry on the etch-a-sketch

ridges of our sanctuary. I want to shake you like an etch-a-sketch,
flinging you to each corner of our frame, scattering the designs
like your fragmented speech. We never made sense, like twelve mangos
tumbling down a sun-sprayed beach: dripping honey
over their thirsty tongues, and whisking them off to hollow mountains.

We can make a life of this, you and I, populating mountains
with withered fruit. I’ll sit in a log cabin, sculpting you on an etch-a-sketch
and stealing sweet syrup from bees, like candy. Honey,
we’ll imprint ourselves with the combs, and design
ourselves with nature. Stamp me with your daydream
and watch the clouds break open, pouring mangos

Down our throats. But I’m pulled back to the mango
scented Windex burning my tongue, unable to explain why mountains
sound so appealing from my window-still. I’m stuck daydreaming,
smelling a feather, hoping it will bring me closer to the etch-a-sketch
skyline. I can barely see the horizon that sits between you and I: designed
to crack open between us and spread the earths’ core like honey.

I’ll grow older, old enough to shatter the window that hold us, honey.
The ones that keep us breathless and gasping in our confines, peeling mangos
and twiddling our thumbs to keep our sanity. So I’ll dream that we’re designed
for each other, made to escape reality and climb mountains
like mo-hills. The raindrops on my window are tracing you like an etch-a-sketch
and I run my fingers across your wet cheeks, and hope that you’re daydreaming,

too. I try to stop daydreaming but I imagine that you taste like honey.
I shake the etch-a-sketch drawings from my ears, dripping your cheeks’ bleeding mangos
The mountains aren’t real, but I need to believe in you, that we’re flawed by design.

The good:
It was a cool poem, really free-flowing and creative, and I thought the way it portrayed everything was very open-minded and cool. Unlike a lot of other poems around here it's kinda memorable and really gives you something to think about, and has honest emotion behind it. You also avoid the dreaded overused rhymne schemes, ideas, cliches and teenage angst stuff you see around here so much. Nice.

The bad:
REPETITION!!! AGHH! This is only a personal preference, but I know a lot of other people don't like it much either. While it can sometimes tie a poem together nice and all, it can also make it seem like you really couldn't stretch your mind to expand on what you're talking about. I'm not saying you have to take it out, though; just an opinion.

In general:
I really like this.

I loved this i mean the analogies were just to die for,but i don't know if you did this on purpose but if you didn't it messed up the rhythm terribly!

suicidallybeautiful wrote:I wash my mouth with Windex windows, day dreaming
of head lights-shattering in the hills like honey
flavored fireflies. I paint you with an etch-a-sketch,
coloring in your cheeks with bleeding mangos.
my soles lazily trod among the mountain
trails, and I try to find you in the cloudless skies’ designs.

Eight legs patter across my forehead, spinning spools and designs:
connecting my freckles like stars in a midnight daydream.
We search for crevices, like pock marks in the mountains’
skin. It swallows us whole, and we drown in its honey
complexion. So, we both drip like starving mangos
leaving only our pits to dry on the etch-a-sketch


We can make a life of this, you and I, populating mountains
with withered fruit. I’ll sit in a log cabin, sculpting you on an etch-a-sketch
and stealing sweet syrup from bees, like candy. Honey,
we’ll imprint ourselves with the combs, and design
ourselves with nature. Stamp me with your daydream
and watch the clouds break open, pouring mangos


I’ll grow older, old enough to shatter the window that hold us, honey.
The ones that keep us breathless and gasping in our confines, peeling mangos
and twiddling our thumbs to keep our sanity. So I’ll dream that we’re designed
for each other, made to escape reality and climb mountains
like mo-hills. The raindrops on my window are tracing you like an etch-a-sketch
and I run my fingers across your wet cheeks, and hope that you’re daydreaming,

too. I try to stop daydreaming but I imagine that you taste like honey.
I shake the etch-a-sketch drawings from my ears, dripping your cheeks’ bleeding mangos
The mountains aren’t real, but I need to believe in you, that we’re flawed by design.

The Bold parts. I think you did it intentionally but when i read it it wasn't really flowing right for me. And Yes the Repetition,Not good. especially not for a poem like this. But once i got past all of the flaws i found an awesome poem!

~Lady Kix

Hey guys! Thanks so much for the review. I guess this poem constitutes a little explanation.
First off, the bold was COMPLETELY unintentional. It doesn't even show up on mine, so I have no idea what happened. It would most definitely mess up the flow, which is so important in a poem like this.
Secondly, the reason for all the repetition-this is a poem in form. It is a sestina, which was assigned to me by my poetry teacher. I hate poetry in forms, as well as repetition, so it was definitely not a choice
but thanks so much. I'm glad that despite the road blocks, you enjoyed it.