Tip me over and pour me out

To start off:
1.3-5
Ugh -- love it. I still fight this every day, wondering how I can still be questioning this so often in my life.

4.1-2
From a swollen heart, it's great to receive assurance that by just pushing through, I'll find who I will be--or who I'd like to be.

Very interesting. In my thoughts, it's like a person, who is lost in the world. They don't know who they are, their mind thinking of all the hate and shattered love they have gone through. It almost reminds me of myself, how I feel. Very nice.

Crusher. <3

Your title is the best reference. I swear. It just bugs my OCD a bit when the remainder of the poem is totally second person. BUT I can get over it! I swear!

You start again with your imperative demand, and it's proving a method of yours to throw you right into the mix of the poetry. We can talk about this later, but if you use it too often in your poetry, someone may formulate it. Watch out for stuff like this. I know I do it, too.

I love the duality I get from the image of paper--meaning it can be both paper and skin, inviting the duality of what is described as a sort of self-harm, and as poetry being written on the pages. (paper, stained, couldn't change, splayed on the cutting table)

It relates very beautifully to your title, so I want you to keep that in mind. Bringing everything back to square one, despite the motif. I think it's awesome when we can make notes from our own poetry to grow within ourselves. So. Moving on.

I'm unsure how I feel about "Prodding bits and pieces," almost as if it steps out of the poetic zone for a bit just to set something up that, honestly, is already there. So I'll use one of my phrases: keep the action, change the words. Pull out something fresh, some specificity that is dormant somewhere. Lines 2.3-2.5 are my favorites in the entire poem, really. It relates to me very well, and I'm sure others can say that, too.

For some reason, I think line 3.1 will work better with 6 syllables instead of 5. It doesn't feel quite breathy enough to me, if that makes sense. I'll tell you about my breath OCD later. In line 3.4-3.5, when you say, "tragedy of your swollen heart," I'm a bit put off with the blatant metaphor-that-isn't. Tragedy lingers too vaguely to note it so strongly, so try fixing it up. Stretch it, if it'd work.

And your final two lines are a nice wrap-up, tying everything into the heart motif, but not necessarily the title, and "you'll come to find yourself again" matches nicely to stanza one, so that's fine by me.

All my love. <3

I liked this but I don't think I really understand it. I read it a few times and I think the first stanza is what confuses me. What you are literally saying doesn't make very much sense because lips don't have bones so how can one tear away flesh from bones that aren't there? The analogy of sheets of paper and ripped skin doesn't fit very well to me but maybe I misunderstood it.

The second stanza is absolutely lovely in terms of imagery but again the literal meaning surpasses me. What is pink with remorse and guilt and hate (by the way, I think you can find a better word for hate, than hate.)? I really love the second line starting with as if though.

The third stanza is my favorite. 'polished white ribs' is gorgeous imagery. The last line is beautiful, with the link of the swollen hearts and beat by beat. I really liked this and I wish I could give you a better review but everything that I didn't understand, I loved. <3

Really nice work.