literature

a new ocean to explore.

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Nullibicity's avatar
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Literature Text

Selling souvenirs,
falling through the atmosphere;

my heart is nothing
but a thread on unsure sleeves,
fraying at the seams.

Yet I still come home to
your crystal clavicles,

giving salt to shores;

a new ocean to explore.

I seem to always give pieces of myself like souvenirs... but back to the poem: I had a lot of fun writing this! I wrote this more with a tune in mind, and therefore I tried to discipline myself into giving it a structured rhythm. I hope it can be received well!
(also, if this is in the wrong category please let me know... it just didn't seem free verse to me ^^;)
© 2013 - 2024 Nullibicity
Comments17
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nosedivve's avatar
The word unsure comes off as weak to me for some reason (I think it's because of the cliche you sort of used here), so I suggest to revise it and maybe 'sleeves', too? I'm not too sure. I feel like the last two lines could be part of the third stanza, but that's just me. It seems kind of odd - the two lines all by themselves. However, if there was a reason to why there were separated like that, please do tell me. I'd love to hear it. :nod: 

I think that if this poem was expanded a bit, it would make a really cool song. Food for thought. 

There seems to me a lot of metaphors in this poem or something. I've read it a few times over and over, and I'm not sure if my explanation would make any sense, but here I go: souvenirs are part of the narrator, aren't they? like something that they think is important to them/about them but they're getting rid of it because it reminds them about a bad relationship gone awry. However, it doesn't work because they're still hurting. So, they come back to the person and move on because they (the narrator) found someone else. I would love to hear what you originally intended it to be about, honestly.