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of a broken heart dream
in a perfume scented
book with cyan blue beam
her own invisible pen
as an inverted tear
bleeding syllables
that only she can hear
dripping jitter of jest
to still a beating rush
from passing by so close
that even stone would blush
he blinks, and on his lids
somewhere maybe flashes by
it's over in a wingbeat
but too dangerous to fly
a heart barely breathing
met another full of beat
somehow without notice
the nexus was complete
then off to each dimension
a boy a book a girl
one soul eased another
and stories still unfurl
Had you ended after the second stanza it may have read much like a Dorothy Parker lament, perhaps not as much humor, but certainly a sharp skewering of love. But the last stanza rewrites the tragedy, instead of flying off and hiding from her tears, he sticks around and from the tears shed of a lost relationship, another grows.
I loved the images as her tears smudged her writing to the dismay of the guy passing too closely. They certainly turned the page and began writing anew.
This one read with a fairly nice flow that at times seemed to carry a meter here, enough so that I scanned it a bit on one of my reads. I had to wonder whether you tried to tighten it up into a meter whether it would add to the poem or diminish the easy flow. I alluded to Dorothy Parker above, she often wrote in a meter alternating between 5 and 6 syllables in a line, which seemed to fit what you had written (that's one reason why your poem made me think of her). It might be something to play with, adding a touch of flair to an already very good poem.
jim : )
You rawk.
(Yeah, I give sucky feedback, too :D)
I love brilliant poetry to start my day. The first stanza is magnificent!