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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: melancholydots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: denial
    Elite Ratio:    5.76 - 119/82/34
    Words: 71
    Class/Type: Poetry/Depressed
    Total Views: 1058
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 481



    Description:
       i might as well be useless posting. i'm thinking too much. feed back thank youed. i'll use them this time, i swear.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsmelancholydots
    -------------------------------------------


    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.




    Submitted on 2006-07-26 23:09:51     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      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.


    Sarah
    | Posted on 2006-07-27 00:00:00 | by vohomegirl | [ Reply to This ]
      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.
    | Posted on 2006-07-27 00:00:00 | by realpoet | [ Reply to This ]
      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*
    | Posted on 2006-07-27 00:00:00 | by EmpathicAya | [ Reply to This ]


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