Brielle, I remembered you today.

I am always, always obliged when asked for a review . So, of course, I should be quite happy to review this piece for you today.

With that being said, you've struck me already with the size of this poem. I am, by all means, a fan of short poetry. Poetry that takes its form and puts its thoughts across with as few words as necessary, and in which case creates exactly what it is you set yourself out to do. So, for that, I applaud your bravery. A shorter poem is, by far, harder than any larger poem.

The problem I have with this poem, though, lies under the fact that you used a rather redundant poetic device in so short of a poem. Repetition which, often enough, adds an added depth to a poem and can open it up to certain amount of irony of theme (such as your last singlet), it is most effectual where space can let it set it's course. With this poem, it was so short and to the point that it was very hard to see the repetition as effectual and came across as being exactly what it was. Repetitive.

Now, with structure aside, the poem in itself (or the meaning behind it) is what I would particularly like to sink my teeth into.

There is something a little worse for wear about this poem. Possibly the fact that is jumps around quite a bit. You don't really stream off of the pieces of imagery you could weave into this. For instance,

I remembered what it was like to feel today,
to know that skin exists.

We could gesticulate that skin is whats keeping you inside. That the world cant honestly see the turmoil resting within you, or this poem, even though it feels as if the world could, and in which case one has to remember that skin exists and that there is a barrier that saves you from the world. This, in itself, would be a whole new poem. A whole new ideology. And yet you have one line that hardly inspires such a thought because its so quickly looked past for the next line that one can't really feel something deep or interesting in it.

So, when it came to the imagery part, it jumped around too much to get solid, interesting fluidity, and in which case, I didn't quite enjoy the aesthetics of this poem quite as much as I should have liked to.

The second stanza was probably, by far, my least favorite part of this piece. Mostly because of the fact that the first line of it contradicts the last singlet, as well as the fact that thinking of death shouldn't fit into anyone's idea of a perfect, or even pretty little world. Because the world does not exist in death. And in thoughts of death, it's almost silly and repulsive to think the narrator so repugnant as to think ill of someone who doesn't think of escaping into death.

I don't know where the feelings are coming from when it comes to what inspired this, put it is extremely unrefined, which gives the poem a sense of juvenile melodrama. Not that that's really a bad thing. It doesn't go on about unrequited love, which is extremely wonderful to see, and it's not, by any means, something far too picturesque, which is also refreshing. But what is has in emotion, it lacks in skill. I would suggest, at this point, taking some of that emotion and channeling it, rather than letting it spill. In spilling it, you're creating something far less interesting than taking it by the throat and forcing it to bend to your will.

You'll also find that if you write with a stronger sense of yourself, you'll feel better about everything afterwards, too. I don't feel as if this would have made you feel better. It seems more directed and spiteful. Bitter even, which can be interesting but is usually very unpleasing, aesthetically.

Nonetheless, keep writing. You're getting stronger, and practice will only prove to make you stronger. I can't wait to read more.

Sorry in advance for any typos.

~Walker