I was just looking for some honest feedback about a poem I wrote about 2 years ago. It came to me an instant, and it's the only poem of mine that I have really loved. I just wanted to know what others thought of it.
"The Glass Image"
The melodramatic feeling
of nothing
unconcerning,
unlike the soul.
I wish to one day
that dreams
will not fade,
but imprint
into the back
of my mind.
So eccentric
are she,
but not acknowledged
is her.
I am yet
to hang from
up there
or to
immerse.
So look
for all those times
you didn't,
as I gasp
for air.
So choke
on unspoken words
and watch
the raw edges
of that hole
in my heart
never heal.
She waits
for her soul
to be stolen
and her body
to be thrown
in the abyss
of invisibility.
Or is she
already there?
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