E - Everyone

my friends

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My friends say he’s not the only one,

That there’s surely another boy who will have him outdone.

My friends say I should just move on,

That he’s already gone.

My friends say he wasn’t perfect,

That there’s no reason for me to still be wrecked.

But they weren’t there.

Comments & reviews · 2
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User avatar
manilla
Review

Hi, manilla here for a review.

This is a very simply-written break up poem that even though it doesn't have many words, strong or not, still conveys a point: They are not the narrator, and they did not see and love the way they did.

Like Rascalover, I can give you suggestions (and questions) on what to include in future poems:

1) Some more passion or emotion, so readers can really get into the honest viewpoint. You can do that by adding scenes or certain words that intrigue us.

2) What are the narrator's friends usually like? What was the narrator and their s/o like as a couple?

Great finish, by the way. Like this poem, it is simple but strong.

Manilla out!
(Feel free to disregard any comment you deem unhelpful or rude. That was not my intention.)

User avatar
Rascalover
Review

Hey!
Here for a review :)

This is cute just the way it is, but just a tad suggestion: maybe elaborate on what your friends didn't witness. Did he caress your cheek and whisper sweet nothings? Did he hold you and protect from the nightmares you ran away from at night?

I really like your rhyming scheme, but I don't think the ending of this poem does it justice, and the last line doesn't feel final. It's a justification for the main character and why they still love this person, but it leaves too much of an open ending.

I hope this helps,
Rascalover



The day, which was one of the first of spring, cheered even me by the loveliness of its sunshine and the balminess of the air. I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein