There is a difference between criticisn and poetry. While I appreciate your inventiveness, I’m not here for relational advice, but to share these letters as works of prose. I don’t like to request refunds for reviews, but I may have to start doing so in the future.
Thanks for the poem. Happy to be an inspiration, though there are issues with inverted syntax and the overall structure.
Journal, Diary, & Blogging / Just a letter (VIII)
It is October 28, 2004. Yesterday we had what could have been the last true talk we may ever have. It didn’t go too well. I have no recourse but to try to let you go. It hasn’t gone too well so far.
It’s 1:15 am. I assume you won’t be calling back tonight (this morning) and so I’ve decided to try and capture what I can in what manner I can most clearly convey my thoughts; not that I’m ever thinking wholly clearly thinking when thinking of you, but such is life.
I finally smoked my graduation cigar, or most of it. It may have been somewhat stale, not that I’d have known or noticed, but this graduation was certainly no means for celebration anyhow. It was the only thing I had of yours to kiss goodbye, long slow kisses that left a bad taste in my mouth with cancerous smoke burning the tip of tongue, irritating my already tender throat, and burning my eyes, which were still cried out from hours earlier. It was a quiet ceremony with no honors, distinctions or degrees incurred apart from the cigar’s heater and the cool autumn air. I managed to write “I [heart] YOU” with the ashes on the cement wall outside the back door of my father’s house, as a final reminder while so many other hopes and dreams seemed to dissipate with each dragging breath of smoke in the wind. I couldn’t finish it though. I’m not yet finished. Though I’m close.
The smoke smells so sweet in the air, and some of that sweetness lingers on my clothes. However, it tastes like poison, especially now that the heat is gone. I’m sure that the rest will rot away before too long, begin to reek of a spent age and forgotten time, better discarded than placed on a glass shelf behind the enclosed doors of a bookcase, treasured as a bygone era of a once sealed, wrapped, aromatic love, fresh and ready to be set aflame, but such is life, meaning, and the extent of this overdrawn metaphor.
The last of the earth’s shadow was passing from the moon when I went out, but yours will surely eclipse me for quite some time. I can’t rid myself of love by writing thus anymore than I could write you more in love with me.
The true pain is in the riddle that is my inability to meet some standard that no one else can meet either but enables you to try to love them anyway and refuse me just the same. And I am bitter. I am angry. I am hurt and jealous and unable to reconcile these seeming inconsistencies. I don’t know how I can be enough as your best friend, lacking nothing, and yet so unsuitable as more to warrant your search for another when we are mutually attracted to one another, and you will not give me the opportunity to love you like I can. I do not believe that I would be incapable of anything you would want, but this isn’t a treatise or promissory note, it’s the last will and testament of a dying love.
There is only one thing that has kept this from epitaph status: the feeble smoldering stump of truncated hope left that I believe can forever be fanned back into a flame should the breath of two people rekindle the embers in the ashes and fuel anew the fragmented bracken of their relationship to the fire it was and could be again. I believe in the principles of the myths and legends and so-called fairy tales that spite the realities of parading pessimistic pragmatics. I believe in the raising of more dead than just Lazarus. I believe in a God of miracles. I believe in me. I believe in you.
Down the road I hope this becomes comic somehow, another chapter in the epic saga of love’s triumphant biography. Together or not, I hope you find what you are truly looking for, while seeing yourself for the treasure you are. I have every faith that mourning will be comforted in due time, though this one is early and there are many long hours anticipated before a new day dawns for me.
I have tried my best to love you, -—-—. Someday this trial will be behind us both for richer or poorer, better or worse, ‘til truly we part.
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RoadHousePress reviewed Version 1 -
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I like how you use “this overdrawn metaphor” because that is what this relationship seems to have been from what you have written. I would have liked to have seen the relationship through your eyes in a few specifics rather than all the poetic talk.
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nelson1 reviewed Version 1 -
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Its a pretty good letter and the cigars mataphor for love now lost works really well, as a nosy-parker reader though it would of been interesting if we could of been told what caused the split, as the only thing you say in this department is that she would’nt let you love her.
Only problems I had re-typing was this line here “not that I’m thinking wholley clearly thinking when i’m thinking of you,” do we really need the word thinking three times in this sentence, I suggest “not that I’m thinking clearly all of the time, when I think of you. This line which starts “There is only one thing that has kept” is also far two long, it could be broken up with more comma’s or made into two sentences.
dreamcatcher reviewed Version 1 -
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oh… i seem to have missed a few letters. a very different style here, despite the heartache still pounding through. i thought your use of language, metaphor and allitaration served your purpose but were perhaps a little too frilly for the brutal pain you are discussing with your silent reader. i think i would have preferred some of it to be stated more simply, it is easy to become lost in the cigar analogy, and i think that a shame. but you clearly do not have a problem with conveying the emotion, which is harder to craft.
strangepeade reviewed Version 1 -
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Writer of so Above but tugged Below by Love that was of Scorn…
Emotional Energy you waste,
You who torture yourself,
You to fly away and not make haste.
For to stay,
Never you to be unchained,
Risk your heart to a demon who delight & play!
Unless you to say to yourself unfeighned,
Your letter won’t to be read and is okay…
I of heart’s pain to move on is plain.
v/r, strangepeade
Deanne reviewed Version 1 -
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As this isn’t current, I am curious if itreally was your last talk.
and the extent of this overdrawn metaphor shows a wicked humor. Some guy or girl lost a very interesting companion.
I’m your opposite-I will put it in the glass bookcase, the effluvium reminding me of a disgustig point in my life each time I open the door.Perhaps I need that two-by-four banging my head.
I think you meant “writing this”, not “writing thus.”
This is very well-put:”I don’t know how I can be enough as your best friend, lacking nothing, and yet so unsuitable as more to warrant your search for another when we are mutually attracted to one another, and you will not give me the opportunity to love you like I can. I do not believe that I would be incapable of anything you would want”. Some people just can’t take intimacy, and some cannot have a relationship unless they are madly in love, and if the other person seems more interested, or in love first, it’s an automatic ‘no way Jose’. They can’t concieve of themselves as being worthy of that love, so deem the lover “inferior”, a loser. They have to fall in love first, and harder, and then when they “get” the other’s love,they are living the fairy tale taught them from preschool, the prince and princess. If the other wants them before they get the whole fun of the chase (“is he looking at me?” to a bunch of giggling girls in the cafeteria:”Oh mg, I just dropped all my books right in front of him!” This part can mean more to a person than someone they haven’t ever yet daydreamed about being with, professing his undyying love-it robs them of the thrill of the catch. Like the trout-stocked ponds or god-nugget stocked “pan for gold” tourist attractions versus finding gold in a creek no one knows gold is in, or getting that eleusive trout the hard way—all the fun of the chase/discovery has beem removed by the other.
Good that you believe it can be fanned back into a bright flame, that more than lazarus can rise from the dead, and that God performs miracles-because you are right. When you say “seeing yourself for the treasure you really are”, it reminds me of a sentence from the movie “The Horse Whisperer”-the young teen with half her legremoved wails “who’ll ever want me like this?” and her mum says “someday someone will look at you and all they’ll see is the love they have for you. That’s all I see.”
There’s a truth behind the “play hard to get” bit, although non-gamers who are down-to -earth aren’t into that at all. Maybe it’s that the object of the other’s affections thinks he/she is hard up and ready to love anyone who looks in their eyes while lighting their cigarette.In the long run, you will appreciate those who continuously appreciate you . Sadly, there might be some poor choices made inbetween that might prevent the future you two could have had. I only know one thing- don’t drown in your cups--it is not attractive, keeps your sensitivity to signs from the other blunted, and may ruin your chances, if it doesn’t kill you. Guy loves girl. Girl more into flashier guy she loved prior to meeting 2nd guy (but has never told him this.) Flash moves on, marries, breaks girl’s ♥ ; one day girl has truck with Guy again; feels the throes of infatuation/love, even gets with him-the drinking problem that sustained him since she totalled him pops up its ugly head—it ends with a peace bond , jail, moving out while he’s at work with no forwarding address or, with a divorce that goes for all his assets and future income. Cigar, fine--booze-no chance in heaven it will work out in future. Build oyurself, improve, she or he will be moved. You may have to wait 6 yeats for her/his divorce while the person goofs, but you will be there, like a kight in shining cliche. There IS a second chance -I have been there. Love beats “appearances” to her friends. When she/he grows up a little more. Good luck!
NNA528 reviewed Version 1 -
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I really appreciate how you put into words such an antagonizing emotion, and the metaphor was really beautiful- can almost see in my head, you writing this. True emotion will do that, and I think it’s really awesome of you to share such. Not to take pleasure at such an unfortunate event, but I can naturally only wonder the rest of the story, seeing how this was october of 2004.
Ladyauthor2b reviewed Version 1 -
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These are lovely sentiments expressed very well. I can see you sitting, contemplating what went wrong, while smoking the cigar, just tying in those last memories to the action you are simulating. Very nice and very meaningful. I like this.
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