i try so hard not to forget every second we spent together, but the truth is, darling, every minute since i last saw you grows longer. i hold my breath so the thoughts don't escape but i suffocate with the weight of your memory. i remember your lips but i forget your words; i remember your skin but forget the smell. your eyes are stars, but i fall asleep before dusk. my eyelashes are singed from the never ending sunshine.
i cough up my secrets each sunday. every monday my throat burns and i remember you soothing it with your tongue and scripted love. then comes tuesday, and i forget again. i don't know where you've gone but i miss you, sweetheart. i wish you'd come home.
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,733 Reviews
Helloo there... Your poem reminds me of an amnesiac person desperately trying to hold on reality and all that he knows to be true! My implications might not be consistent but honestly?, that is the first thing i thought of as I began reading!
And it did haunt me to my bones, making me imagine his dilemma and feeling rather pitiful for him! FYI- That is a compliment. I don't so easily feel sad
The only problem I had with this poem was the lack of capitalization of 'I's and the words after period. For me, that^ broke the flow!
But otherwise, i did truly love the poem! It's beautifully written!!
Your poem is honest, sorrowful, yet beautiful. It shows the truth behind people themselves really. When you're with someone for a long while, and all of a sudden they have to leave you, you start to gradually forget his voice, his smell. Yet his touch, lips, and eyes cloud the mind of the narrator. Your imagery was on point and superb and flawless, I could definitely feel the sorrow and pain the lady had been feeling, yearning for her loved one. I love that about poems, certain poems can leave the reader lost in the sauce, or leave them for dead, but there are those very few that makes you feel what the character feels, or what the character thinks, which is what you revealed to me in such a small amount, yet a small amount can have many meanings. Great job and thank you for sharing your poem, it was very enjoyable. Hope to read many more of your writings in the nearer future!
♥
Your potency is on-pointe, as per usual, but you're toeing the line again between prosaic poetry and blatant sentencing. That said, I approve of the treatment of the imagery in this piece as staying loyal to his body alone - it sends its own message that the mind of the narrator has her mind clouded with the wrong parts of him. By proxy, the message extends to more minds than just that of the narrator - we can read into the lines that our memories become fixated on the tactile and embossed, but the things that we wish we'd remember are fleeting; such is the nature of intrinsic beauty, etc.
I went over this in a pad for flow. You may not appreciate some of the suggestions, but be mindful that fluidity is the capability of the piece to be received. If your works flow smoothly enough, a reader will come back a dozen times to find meaning beneath meaning.
Have the renovations.
As a final note, while you know that I accept fully the stanzagraph style, and while I know that I influenced you in this direction (how cocky of me), I think it would be a nice exercise to preserve a copy with line breaks so you won't lose your power over them. It's not about one style over the other, but rather about staying sharp on techniques that could benefit later works that beg of their assistance.
Ty