Doubt

by dianneece

Published August 9, 2012

In Poetry

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He kisses her cheek and starts to go
And all the while she's thinking:
"I don't love you anymore"
And it's such a sad thought
She finds it hard to breathe
Because the luckiest man in the world
He believes himself to be
But she keep this to herself
In the case that she's wrong
She's doubting the heart that
Forever, she promised, to him it belonged.
Comments & reviews · 3
User avatar
Pokit Review
Pokit wrote a review Review · Feb 6, 2014

Wow! I really liked this!
I love your "poetic" style!
I don't know very much about poetry, but my dad loves it, so it's kind of in my house a lot! actually, it's really in my house all the time. This was soooo beautiful!!

My favorite part in this poem is "and all the while she's thinking 'I don't love you anymore'"

Such a good job! beautiful emotion in such a small piece!

"The luckiest man in the world he believes himself to be"

that's very sad and pretty...love it!!

--Pokit

User avatar
ERZA
Review
ERZA wrote a review Review · Aug 11, 2012

Its really a short one. If you want it short then you can at least give 14 lines and that would make it a sonnet. And also sorting it into stanzas will do good too. The meaning does not come out clear from this poem mainly because you did not punctuate it well. You have also left some pats hanging in the air and this poem looks a bit sort of incomplete. This can be much better and beautiful.

User avatar
Amberchelli
Review
Amberchelli wrote a review Review · Aug 10, 2012

Wow, I really like this, I do however think you could make it a big longer, maybe explain why she doesn't love him anymore, or explain what made her love him in the first place? poetry more often then not, is suppose to tell a story, give the reader a connection to what they're reading, or else it's just someone looking at a bunch of words instead of actually reading and understanding them. I do enjoy your point in this piece, it is very vague but that can be very good also, giving the reader a reason of their own to connect the story to them.



Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.
— Mark Twain