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As the Hectic Day Slipped Into Twilight

When I remember sitting in the car
listening to you finish your story
before we headed into the house and
cooked dinner together while the music
softly played its comforting melodies,
I am reminded that each breath with you
is an unexpected gift and treasure
that has steeped my life in fascination.
And as I wake each day to your rare smile
I am resolute to forever strive
to be worthy of sitting in the car
listening to you finish your story.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
This is blank verse in pentameter for a sonnet look and feel without regard to iamb. The piece is an imagining based around a book I have written, though not inclusive of the book and is written for the upcoming Valentine's Day. This is loosely interpreted as a conversation two of the characters would have loved to have had.
Editing stage: 

Comments

The only thing which seems out of place to me is"staccatoed". I like the feeling of not being worthy of your love as that's kinda how I feel at times.............stan

Thanks for the review and comment.

I wanted that line to work more than it actually worked. So, thanks for helping convince me to change it.

Line 12 also bothered me, it was just a bit contrived with the pause and more than a bit awkward, so that go smoothed as well.

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Jonathan Moore

author comment

That's what feedback is for, to confirm to many of us that our instincts are right lol......stan

Technically I cant fault your poem you have always wrote on a whole other level, Now the content I have to say, I was deeply moved, this is the way every woman should be loved at least once in their life

sigh I wish I could rate this one

JC x

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

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