i

[androidheart]

It stings and bites
worse yet, week to week
where my Ghostly fingertips
long again for your sallow cheek

I couldn't if I dared
and I wouldn't, as I've tried
to look beyond something like "You and I"
where I could sing,
with a Broken guitar string
and a heart to match
a girl that Lied
and never looked back

I want to quit,
and yet I can't
I want to sit,
and yet I shan't
bereft of former heart and soul
take what Remains and make me Whole
held against your chest
there is nothing else Left

Comments

[androidheart]

That was my intention. I'm glad you can appreciate it.

I don't think we've spoken before.

My name is Angela.

[truedetective]

Naoto. Nice to meet you.
I don't believe we have.

What inspired it?

[androidheart]

What do you think inspired it, Naoto?

From your perspective, what do you think is being described? What is the poem portraying?

[truedetective]

Uh It reads like you're mourning? I can't tell whether it's over an actual death or some sort of metaphorical loss. That's how it comes across to me.

[androidheart]

You're more of an artistic judge than you give yourself credit.

[truedetective]

You think so? Honestly, it was just... reasoning it out based on the language used. "ghostly," "sallow," "remains"-- all words that evoke a death.