its as if things never changed.
'the ink ran dry', she says when the whim has passed
but the moment’s still fresh and achingly smooth --
a warm shawl of remembrance when the tongue,
of so many words and so few reasons, spouts lies.
she splatters the page with blotches; a varied mess,
construed with what little is left of her muse
and the sound of pages turning is replaced with
a chair skidding and a mournful sigh.
she believes it could have been.
‘i love you’ etched on the back of each breath
to what purposes become vague and disenchanted,
and so are the words she favors in constant disarray --
unavoidable vicissitudes of a spiraling life.
and she spins like a top, relishing in the fall, yet
never quite knowing if there should be an up again.
a change of pens, his beauty returned,
and a blanket for when the thunder cries blasphemy.
the world, though, keeps cycling on.
its as if the page documents each moment she’s alive,
the ink supplies all answers to questions unasked.
the alarm will ring, the day will start
and she will wear her skin out in scheming
in the changing of seasons and the sound of his breathing.
merely a matter of turning pages to understand.
it was never the pen. the ink was always there.
she simply had nothing left to say.
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140,828 Literary Works • 673,694 Reviews
This is amazing and very descriptive. I really liked it, and I don't like many non-lyric poetic styles, but this one if very good. Just a few comments, not many at all:
its as if things never changed.
'the ink ran dry', she says when the whim has passed
but the moment’s still fresh and achingly smooth --
a warm shawl of remembrance when the tongue, Doesn't need to be a comma here.
of so many words and so few reasons, spouts lies.
she splatters the page with blotches; a varied mess,
construed with what little is left of her museComma IS needed here.
and the sound of pages turning is replaced with
a chair skidding and a mournful sigh.
she believes it could have been.
‘i love you’ etched on the back of each breath Capitalize your I
to what purposes become vague and disenchanted,
and so are the words she favors in constant disarray --
unavoidable vicissitudes of a spiraling life.
and she spins like a top, relishing in the fall, yet
never quite knowing if there should be an up again.
a change of pens, his beauty returned,
and a blanket for when the thunder cries blasphemy.
the world, though, keeps cycling on. Only one comma needed, after the "though."
its as if the page documents each moment she’s alive, It's* Also, this should be a period, not a comma. If they MUST be connected, use a semi-colon ( this thing";" )
the ink supplies all answers to questions unasked.
the alarm will ring, the day will start
and she will wear her skin out in scheming
in the changing of seasons and the sound of his breathing.
merely a matter of turning pages to understand.
it was never the pen. the ink was always there.
she simply had nothing left to say.
This is very very good, but you HAVE to capitalize the start of each sentence, and the start of each line.
I can honestly say I love this my favourite by far! Its imaginative and descriptive, you could almost feel the anxiety of the character.I cant really fault it, it would make a great story. I hope to see more!