moon boy

i was so in love with a dear friend of mine back in march it was so bad lol

It’s you.

My god, it’s always been you.

I spent so long conjuring up romances in my head, crafting the perfect love story, that I didn’t notice the one happening right in front of me. I didn’t notice how quickly I’d fallen for you until I was tumbling head over heels, no coffee strong enough to pull me from my love-drunk state. 

When I finally realized what had happened, it tore me apart from the inside out in the lightest way possible. A gentle unravelling, neither good nor bad. As much as I wanted to cry, to hate you, I couldn’t. God, I could never hate you.

You’re so perfect in the most flawed ways I’ve ever come to know, but you make it work. 

I always wondered what it would be like to have truly unrequited love. The kind of heartache nothing can fix, because you never stood a chance against fate. The kind of love that was ripped away before you had a chance to feel it. 

Nothing can make “us” work, and the universe only pulls us further apart each time we take a step towards each other. Perhaps we’re destined to be star-crossed, or nothing at all. Our love story is one of one-sided requiems for the butterflies in our stomachs. Not much of a love story at all, really. Just depressing. 

Not that you’d know it, though. I hide behind witty banter and dangerously romantic flirting. I feel my heart swoon with the echo of love each time we tell each other “goodnight”, and I feel it fall each time you make an empty, teasing promise. A promise of a confession in french, or swapping hoodies when you come down here for the summer. Forgotten echoes in each “i love you” message exchanged and every tear spent on you.

Je t’aime, mon chéri.

Reviews

[JayG]

• It’s you

Why...thank you, I think.

• My god, it’s always been you.

Wait...who are you, and what are you accusing me of?

My point? You wrote a letter to someone unknown to the reader, and in it talked about things for which the reader has n context. Sure, when you read it, the image of this person jumps into your mind. But that can the reader make of it? Not a damn thing. That's why we must edit from the seat of a reader who lacks all context we don't provide. Fail that and the reader has words, yes, but they're meaningless.

Here's the deal: In our school days we learned only nonfiction writing techniques, to prepare us for the kind of writing employers need: reports, essays, and letters. But they offer degree programs in Commercial Fiction-Writing. And surely at least some of what's taught is necessary. Right?

So, keep on writing, or course, but while you do, check a few books in the fiction-writing section of the library.

[november]

oh bestie i wrote this like 7 months ago i was trying to cope it wasn’t really supposed to be a good piece in any way, but i appreciate the advice regardless

[JayG]

In reality, I wasn't commenting on this poem, but your "Let me tell you how I feel," approach to most of what you have posted.

The problem, inherent to it, is that for you, every line acts as a pointer to emotion, images, and more, all ready and waiting be evoked, in your mind.

So for you, as you read, it has all it should have. But to a reader? For them, every line acts as a pointer to emotion, images, and more, all ready and waiting be evoked, in YOUR mind. But without you there to explain, and fill in the blanks, it tends to be too much of a "Woe is me," poem. The trick is that instead of trying to make the reader know how you feel, make them feel it.

Were you writing a romantic poem, for example, instead of making the reader know how much the protagonist loves someone, you make the reader love them with equal intensity. In other words, emotion-based writing, not fact-based writing.

Harder to do, yes, but it's why poets make such big bucks. 😆