When melancholy ends
we'll have to get use to boredom again.
i live between houses
dressed like a whore.
he looked to be broken
but the smell of grass
the sense of night
the chill of love
the white of his eyes
lets him down.
i won't.
your busrides, your silence, your tone
by my side, shuts me up, makes me cry.
thank god i can't finish anything
we're still here.
This peice evoked a sort of dazed elusiveness.. that I can't quite put my finger on - but it gives me an impression of not really having a true sense of belonging.
You don't give much information as to the other person/figure might be.. or perhaps a third (?):
the white of his eyes lets him down. i won't.
Perhaps it wasn't your intention to be too clear or direct in refering to him/them. Almost as if your dancing around something else by providing it's peices or clues.
to me you have presented a picture of unfaithful love. yet,somehow or other infatuation for another is the reason. I would finish the poem with a last line of: 'where melancholy died'----(since The lines before presents a picture of forgineness.) Te poem is beautiful in mean.
This sounds like a poem about someone who uses their own depressed emotion to keep themselves interesting and interested. It had a sense of masochism to it, about someone who would willing hurt themselves for the pleasure. Mind you, I only got that from the first 2 lines, but the rest of the poem.. i live between houses dressed like a whore. he looked to be broken but the smell of grass the sense of night the chill of love the white of his eyes lets him down. i won't. your busrides, your silence, your tone by my side, shuts me up, makes me cry. thank god i can't finish anything we're still here.
People who got kicked out of their houses for being bad, and then getting bored because they have nothing to do after feeling sorry for themselves. This is really interesting and thought provoking because it could be interpreted in so many ways, and mine is just one of the many. Great job. Walk in Love and Light, ~Azura*