Everywhere I go, I see you. I see you under the gnarled boughs of a poplar tree, eyes somewhere between closed and very far away.
I see the way you people-watch, the way you take offense to a biker’s interjection on the walking path, only because you remember the way it felt with spokes under your own heels, sailing in the wind.
The air smells like autumn and your hair. I remember how it felt with your head folded over mine, a reminder which sends reverberations through my stomach and teeth.
I remember the way your hand hummed on the tops of my thighs, a prelude to dropping your eyebrow with mocking suspicion and confidence.
I don’t hate the way you made me feel; not at all. How could I?
I don’t hold it against you— the way your skin tasted, nor the way we fit together, not unlike two chemical compounds: one unstable unit exploited by the magnitude of another.
I still wonder how you’re doing. I’ll explain it to you; I have the time. It’s kind of a timid curiosity, lit by the half-extinguished embers of what we had. I still remember the way you grabbed my face, tilted up towards the chin, fearing absolutely nothing.
I won’t even lie to you; your self-assurance was intoxicating. Those anecdotes of yours—how can I put it simply? —They were magic.
I can still see that empty liquor bottle your father gave you as a gross act of defiance; an utter deflection of parental expectations, which you said ruined your birthday. Or, rather, remarked. It’s easy to imagine why.
My father treated me with even less regard, this you can imagine. But I never got to tell you that.
He treated me like some sort of vermin: probably even below how you view yourself. It was as though being with child was the mark of his tragic downfall. And downfall it was, for me and my sibling, who felt the bruise of the shiny metallic belt buckle from the age of three until my mother came like an angel and bathed us in her tears.
My point is, I understand you. I understand why your capacity to love normal has screwed up knots inside your head. I’m the same exact fucking way, and it’s scary as hell. A switch has been activated deep inside, a blanketed defense, and who knew it would be my undoing.
Man, we would’ve loved so hard. I think that’s what I’ve had a hard time letting go of.
I know this because of the way you looked into my eyes. The mottled aqua of your irises wrested with the spillover of your own emotion, to a degree you didn’t even know was capable. It was written all over your face. This, you can’t deny.
Well, you’re not here to deny it, now are you?
I want to take this 8 by 11-inch paper and paste it to every fucking tree in that sketchy bum park that we made out in for an eternity, our lips molded together like two adhesive backings.
I know that someday you will read this. And I hope you do. Please help yourself.
I hope you remember that day we spent underneath a wind-sheared sky in Liberty Park, watching videos and exploding into fits before madly kissing each other, as if there were no bystanders in sight.
That I cannot forget. Nor do I want to.
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139,585 Literary Works • 672,611 Reviews
Hi, Abdu's here for a review.
Brace for impact, though, as you'll be getting a review from someone who's very skeptical of romance. 😈
I may be a skeptic of love. I may be cynical about infatuation and stuff. But I can't help giving this wonderful piece of writing less than 9/10.
Nope, it'll get 9.5/10 😆
I've never seen such a meticulous choice of words before. Each and every word was successful in conveying how you felt. Besides, about the part of familial tragedy you've pointed out, it was able to express your frustration very nicely. Even a heartless jerk like me (self-deprecating for no reason) was able to feel that.
"That I can't forget. Nor do I want to."
The ending basically wraps up everything you've said. So, I think it is a very good ending. A reader may not remember everything, but he'll surely remember the last two sentences.
Hey, I'm doubtlessly a skeptic, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be biased and judge them poorly. I'm an open-minded skeptic, after all. 😊
I have found only a single problem, in all.
"I still wonder how ... fearing absolutely nothing."
This para seems somewhat confusing. I don't know if the other readers feel the same way as I do. But I think you should try to make it easier to understand.
Oh, and one more thing. I think it wasn't necessary to bold the f-word. It stands out too much.
And I sincerely hope that the person who you wrote for might read this one day.
Hello. Sometimes I wonder to myself how to convey emotion into my writing, into the still words that stain my screen and in my mind. I also often find myself looking for inspiration and guidance to help me fit those burning emotions into the text.
And I can say 100% that anytime I have trouble, I will turn to this story for help. The way you conveyed your emotion into the words was beautiful.
I could almost feel the emotions inside me as I read this story, and that is something I rarely find nowadays.
I wish you the best of luck. And keep writing from the heart.
This is hands-down the best compliment I've ever recieved. I really appreciate you taking the time to read and comment on a piece I wrote from the heart. I too sometimes struggle in translating those necessary emotions on paper, but this story is true and fairly recent so that helps a ton.
I suggest reading From Where You Dream by Robert Olen Butler. That book has helped me immensely in channeling my "white hot subconscious" into my writing. The key to making a story not just visually descriptive but thought-provoking and relevant, is to consider the issues that really matters to you and a story that fits behind it.
I wish you luck! <3 Let me know if you'd like a review anytime. I'm eager to check out your work.
You are very welcome!
Hi MoonlightForest,
I was drawn towards this piece because I'm a big fan/proponent of really utilizing strong - possibly uncomfortable - emotions in writing. I think it produces an impact and intensity that is sometimes missing - you can have a story, but it's not necessarily good until you can tap into vulnerable feelings.
I feel like you really captured the emotion here. It's mesmerizing; the pain is felt throughout. However, I don't feel like the emotion here is infatuation. Infatuation is that emotion you have when you have a crush on someone or you've started a new romantic relationship. It's clear here that this relationship doesn't seem new. It's certainly ended, and that is what the speaker is lamenting. I think the emotion captured here is more longing and/or mourning the loss of the relationship. Regardless, you've achieved it in writing.
Where this piece falls short is the lack of plot, the lack of something that explains why this relationship ended. You mention a skinny conflict - the fact both the speaker and their love interest have rough upbringings. I wonder if you could expand on this, maybe put forth some suppositions as to why the relationship between these two people didn't work out. I'm wanting more history about this failed couple, as much as it may be heart-wrenching. But, that's the point, right? I can feel the history, but you're not giving it to us. I think it would be beneficial if you did.
A small nit-pick:
"Fucking" provides enough emphasis as it is. There is no need to make it bold. It also doesn't look great.
Overall, I really, really loved this piece. It resonated deeply with me and, from what I can tell, some of the other reviewers as well. Keep writing, and let me know if you have any questions or comments!
Best,
Lav
Hi, thanks so much for the thoughtfulness of your review! Honestly, the lack of plot has a lot to do with me just writing in this stream-of-consciousness style and failing to edit. I just wanted to get the feelings out while they were still raw; but, you're absolutely right, there's a lot more to explore here. Sometimes I try to dig for it but when I don't have the words to express the intensity or "weight" of a certain background conflict, I return to it for revision eventually but move on in the short- term.
Anyways, your points are insightful, and I'm glad that there was something emotion-provoking about the piece despite of its lack of a coherent plot. Honestly, I think of this jumble of words as more poetry than anything, but even poetry needs that inner-outer conflict.
Again, many thanks for your review!
Hey, there. This piece has a lot of emotion woven into it. It is undeniable that it comes from a full heart. The passion, the loss, the hurt - all are pretty clear here, which is great. One thing I did notice is that little to nothing is specifically stated as the reason for the separation of the two lovers. In a way, that's nice because it leaves us in a shroud of mystery, yet it also is slightly frustrating because it made me wonder what tore them apart and caused such pain. What is it that stands in the way of their communication?
Overall, I'd say this is well written. However, there were a few parts that I thought could have flowed better. I think most of it is word choice. I get what it's meant to convey, but at the same time, I feel like some of the words obscure the picture you're trying to create. For example, here's one spot where I had a question:
"only because you remember the way it felt with spokes under your own heels, sailing in the wind." Wait, spokes under your own heels? For a bicyclist, wouldn't that be the pedals under your own heels? Because the spokes are in the wheels. . . .
I think the biggest issue I personally had was in this part:
"our lips molded together like two adhesive backings."
No offense, but that comparison sounds very unromantic. I really feel like you could find some other expression to describe the passion. I just felt like this was a little cheesy, considering the deep feelings you've been trying to describe. Anyway, that's just a personal opinion.
You've done well overall in showing the emotion and telling just a few snippets of the backstory to give us a thought-provoking narrative. Good work.
Hey there! Thanks for your constructive feedback. In addressing the reason for our separation, there honestly was never one communicated. In the piece I'm reminiscing about what could have been with this boy I only went on a single date with, but the build-up of communicating until then was so strong and magnified through my own eyes, that it seems to the reader like an actual relationship existed. Truth be told, I was obsessed with the feeling and not the actual person. He ended up standing me up after promising me the world (where's the cliche in that)? But yeah, all true. Call it nonfiction, if you will.
I agree with you about the word choice. In my effort to avoid cliches I had some painfully executed metaphors. Next time I'll hit the writer's dictionary because I found myself struggling for the right words to convey what I was feeling. Again, I appreciate your honest criticism and highlights, and I'd be happy to reciprocate by reading your work!
Hey Moonlight!
I really like this. It was so full of emotion that I could really feel what she was feeling. I could relate to her even if I am in no way in her position. I have no complaints about it either so that’s awesome.
Keep up the good work!
Your friend,
Honora
Thanks Honora! I'm glad you liked it. I hope to hear more of your kind words on my latest works!