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the day I lost an old love

A day ordinary as days before,
the sky was blue and heavy with cloud,
the air though sultry but beside my love
caressing and healing.

On the path where a year ago our love was born
we walked with our hands locked in love.
Under the grove of trees bearing flagrant fruits
shaped life dove-eye of love
we glided down the path in love.

Midway, on the plains of my soul the bombshell
as the sound of artillery was dropped:
"I shall not continue the relationship," said my love,
stroking the petals of a rose flower
peeping through a window of excited leaves.

In a twinkling I felt as one drenched in bitter water.
The life of the day like a wisp of air
evaporated into the horizon unknown.
My chest felt as an enemy armed with sticks and axes
cutting down the red trees that air my heart.

The path from which we came
looked overgrown with teeth of thorns;
even the trees hanging pleasantly low,
lush and riotous with thrilling glow,
had gone quiet and downcast in face.

In my lonely walk I had longed for the days
before the day I lost my old love---
how it used to be,
a part of me, a part of her---
but deep inside I knew she would not return,
I let her go to move on with life,
now content with what my life has become.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
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Editing stage: 

Comments

you have shown well shown quickly a mood can change, depending on the circumstances. i love your comparisons. the writer is happy and then so suddenly everything is sad. i was a little taken aback at the last two lines. such fast acceptance of this and so quickly ready to move on - this to me detracts from the melancholy of most of the piece. i would like to see, before those last two lines, a change using your great comparisons, leading up to the ability to accept this

I accept your critic and will act accordingly.

Bathe yourself with poetry and let the world go to pieces.

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