Published May 1, 2007
Our fingers brush but fail to touch
the inner sanctum of the soul; that
beauty for which the body yearns.
The candid liqueur of a poet’s speech that
undrapes our honest self, the truth that
loosens the tongue of man and softens
a woman’s heart. The empty crevice
of the human mind; that late hour
at which even the darkness prays for
proof of light. These hollow words can never
return more than an echo; it is our misery
that begs for company, but madness calls it forth.
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141,738 Literary Works • 675,654 Reviews
Quite nice. I like your tone, and you kept it consistent throughout the whole piece. Very strong concept too.
I think you could reconsider your linebreaks to make it stronger. Have you tried reading it aloud to find the natural pauses? I find ending a line with words such as "that" or "for" places unnecessary emphasis on those words, when the meaning and rhythm would benefit by ending maybe on the words before that.
I also think you over-use your adjectives. It tends to draw attention away from the ones you really need, and in this case it kind of bogged down the flow.
Overall I really liked this. It's got true depth and some great moments.