Trip Me Again, Please

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I wrote this a couple months ago, but I thought, what the heck? It could use some help (:
I realize now how long it took to fall for you.
It took me a single glance to recognize
how important you would become, and
three years to decide that I didn't belong to you
and that I couldn't completely cut you away;
there was too much of us for that.

Memories strung together like wisps of fog,
like an anaconda whipping it's tail to choke me out.
They start with the same grass-green in your eyes--
they made me bite my lips when you walked in--
match your jacket. Calling out to me, I recognize you
from a mental image; I had never met you before
but felt that I had.

Do you remember the breeze that pushed past us
that afternoon last summer, when we rested under
the monstrous tree at the park? When I lay
on your chest, and felt your heart beat in mine.
And when we kissed, the sweet taste of sun
dripping from your brow. You carried me
three blocks because I wasn't wearing shoes
and the pavement was lava under my feet.

And the afternoon you called me (you were in
trouble, I believe), and told me we wouldn't talk
for a long while. You exclaimed in the most
romantic fashion for the first time that you
loved me. A jolt of warmth ran through my
fingertips, and all I wanted to do was be in your grip.
But really, was I ever out of it?

You had me in a rut from the beginning.
Falling for you, tripping on your outstretched foot
and landing in your warm, comforting arms.
Arms that would wrap me in a wonderful embrace, make me
feel everything you couldn't say, no-- everything
you wouldn't say, because it wasn't true. It was my
imagination whispering ideas in my ear
during the wordless hours we spent staring at
each other, the countless times we'd sit on the phone
listening to each other breathe. No, it was all
a lie.

And to think, it only took me a glance to fall
in love with my imagination.
Last edited by icanbefixed on Thu Mar 24, 2011 11:05 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The hardest mountain to climb will have the greatest view. Everything at a different angle: memories serve as double vision, a view from the valleys as well as the precipice. But everything that goes up must come down.The descent from the peak will be twice as graceful & three times as difficult




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k
I realize now how long it took to fall for you.
It took me a single glance to understand -- "understand" seems more fitting
how important you would become, and
three years to decide that I didn't belong to you
and that I couldn't completely cut you away;
there was too much of us for that.

Memories strung together like wisps of fog,
like an anaconda whipping its tail to choke me out.
the one where I see the same grass-green in your eyes-- they made me -- what do you mean by "the one"? the subject is not clear.
bite my lips when you walked in-- match your jacket.
Calling out to me, I recognize you
from a mental image; I had never met you before
but felt that I had.

Do you remember the breeze that pushed past us
that afternoon of this summer, when we rested under
the monstrous tree down in the park? When I lay
on your chest, and felt your heart beat in mine, -- either heart beating, or heartbeat
And when we kissed, the sweet taste of sun
dripping from your brow. You carried me
three blocks because I wasn't wearing shoes
and the pavement was lava under my feet.

And in the afternoon you called me (you were in
trouble, I believe), and told me we wouldn't talk
for a long while. You exclaimed in the most
romantic fashion for the first time that you
loved me. A jolt of warmth ran through my
fingertips, and all I wanted to do was be in your grip.
But really, was I ever out of it?

You had me in a rut from the beginning.
Falling for you, tripping on your outstreched feet
and landing in your warm, comforting arms.
Arms that would wrap me in a wonderful embrace, make me
feel everything you couldn't say, no-- everything
you wouldn't say, because it wasn't true. It was my
imagination whispering ideas in my ear
during the wordless hours we spent staring at
each other, the countless times we'd sit on the phone
listening to each other breathe. No, it was all
a lie.

And to think, it only took me a glance to fall
in love with my imagination.


You have a good poem here, but the style is a bit too rough for a love poem, in my opinion. I made a few corrections, those in red are major mistakes, those in italics are just words that I'd personally change. ;)

Nicely done!
Julie, a sucker for romance, historical fashion, medieval fairs and blues music. Add photography and you already know me 50%. The rest of me you'll discover through my writings and my photos.

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my greatest project, a history-inspired romance




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Personally I really liked reading this except the first paragraph threw me off. I don't think it's the best note to start with. It was a very sweet love poem until the end when it made me go 'huh?'. Was she in love with her imagination? Or was he real? Or was she watching him through rose-tinted glasses?

I'm not sure. Your writing is very inconsistent, in some places it's amazing but in bits it's quite average I think you need to work on that.

Fahrvergnügen and Schadenfreude (Ignore this. :D)

Hope this helped,

Anger :D
Dont tell me the moon is shining, show me the glint of light on broken glass.

Anton Chekov




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I once saw in some teen magazine that writers have a tendency to fall in love with their perfect image of someone, not the person themselves. I think this explains it quite nicely.
Good adjectives, they really let me see everything you described.
If I had to complain, (which I don't, but I will. To make it seem like I'm a good reviewer. :)) I'd say that at times I forgot that this was a "You weren't who I thought you were." poem and not a "I'm madly in love with you." poem. Maybe in the paragraphs where it's talking about the good old days when everything was great you could say, "Oh, I miss those day." to remind the reader that it's over. If I had to complain.
But I enjoyed the piece quite a lot, and I encourage you to never quit writing, no matter what us mean reviewers say. :)
"Forget love. I'd rather fall in chocolate."



When one is highly alert to language, then nearly everything begs to be a poem.
— James Tate