The poem feels like someone reaching toward a presence they never truly held, yet still carry like a faint warmth under the ribs. What moves me most is the tenderness of the sensations a distant song, a fingertip on the heart as if memory itself were trying to comfort the speaker. The grief here is shaped not by loss alone, but by all the moments that never had the chance to happen. The idea of someone “dead inside me” captures that haunting mix of intimacy and absence, a life that flickers only in dreams. The poem treats memory like a fragile ember, glowing just enough to ache. The longing to reclaim what was shared laughter, tears, love feels deeply human, even if those memories are imagined or half‑remembered. The uncertainty about who this presence truly was adds a trembling vulnerability. And the final plea reveals the deepest truth: without reconnecting with this lost inner light, the speaker feels unmoored, as if a part of their soul slipped away before they ever learned its name.
Thank you so much for your comment, adriaoabreucunha, and for your extensive feedback.
When I write, it's truly as if a thread of information flows directly from my very core, barely touching my rational mind, only tangentially. Even I'm not fully aware of what I'm actually writing or its profound meaning. Reading it, its music and the combination of words evoke beauty, harmony, and a truth I barely grasp.
Thank you so much for your analysis, which helps me understand what I've written. Because I wasn't able to interpret it myself. Now, after your comment, my poem shines with all its truth, and I can understand it, make it my own, and love it.
Hauntingly beautiful and atmospheric poem, Jesus!
Thank you very much for your comment, Diana C.!
The poem feels like someone reaching toward a presence they never truly held, yet still carry like a faint warmth under the ribs. What moves me most is the tenderness of the sensations a distant song, a fingertip on the heart as if memory itself were trying to comfort the speaker. The grief here is shaped not by loss alone, but by all the moments that never had the chance to happen. The idea of someone “dead inside me” captures that haunting mix of intimacy and absence, a life that flickers only in dreams. The poem treats memory like a fragile ember, glowing just enough to ache. The longing to reclaim what was shared laughter, tears, love feels deeply human, even if those memories are imagined or half‑remembered. The uncertainty about who this presence truly was adds a trembling vulnerability. And the final plea reveals the deepest truth: without reconnecting with this lost inner light, the speaker feels unmoored, as if a part of their soul slipped away before they ever learned its name.
Thank you so much for your comment, adriaoabreucunha, and for your extensive feedback.
When I write, it's truly as if a thread of information flows directly from my very core, barely touching my rational mind, only tangentially. Even I'm not fully aware of what I'm actually writing or its profound meaning. Reading it, its music and the combination of words evoke beauty, harmony, and a truth I barely grasp.
Thank you so much for your analysis, which helps me understand what I've written. Because I wasn't able to interpret it myself. Now, after your comment, my poem shines with all its truth, and I can understand it, make it my own, and love it.