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In Dolorosa
03/22/06, 05:27 PM
She walked out of my house, and I got on the very tips of my toes, looking through the coupled windows at the top of my door. How can everything she does be so graceful? So beautiful? The way she simply unlocks her car. The way she puts her golden key in the ignition. I think that maybe since her car is a BMW it helps, but then I scratch that thought. It’s her. She is beautiful. Everything she does. Everything she touches. The way she speaks, the way she laughs, the way she kisses, the way she makes love. She doesn’t know I’m watching her, and I almost feel guilty as shes fixes her hair in her rear view mirror, smiling uncontrollably. She puts her palms on her leather steering wheel and wraps her fingers tightly around it and she starts to giggle. Her forehead kisses the wheel. Her mix CD begins to play, the one I made after meeting her for the first time. I can remember staying up until the sun rose that following morning, adding, cutting, choosing songs, the one’s that could equally math her beauty. No song ever met those standards, but I did what I could. Adam Sandler’s “I want to grow old with you” swims outward from the stereo, and as cheesy as it is, it’s exactly how I feel. Still peering from my window, I eventually turn around, and place my back firmly against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. I run upstairs like a little kid running downstairs. Me, towards.. I’m actually not sure. The little kid towards a pile of Christmas presents placed under a specific tree, in a specific spot the night before. As I sprint up the steps, I trip numerous times. I finally reach my room, fall into my computer chair and begin to play music. I’m singing at the top of my lungs. And I’m not singing the lyrics. I’m singing her name. It somehow follows the beat perfectly, and it meshes so well I think about maybe writing a song one day. Then I quickly remember I can not sing. But what if people knew who she was, what if they saw the beauty that she is? Would they care about my voice? If they it was her I was singing of, would they care about the music. I think her name would be enough. To me, her name is enough.

In Dolorosa
03/23/06, 04:20 AM
ouch, nothing at all?

wyverna
03/23/06, 09:03 AM
I think I like it..

lucky_krystle
03/23/06, 09:25 AM
as a fan of poetry, writing, and music, i think i should offer you some constructive crticism:

Her forehead kisses the wheel.
i am not quite sure what this means and it is a little confusing. does her forehead actually touch the wheel? and why?

I run upstairs like a little kid running downstairs.
i am sure after quoting this you can see why i did so. 1. "like a kid" is a bit cliche.' and 2. if you are running up the stairs, try using a simile that does not include the word "downstairs."

Me, towards.. I'm actually not sure. The little kid towards a pile of Christmas presents placed under a specific tree, in a specific spot the night before.
i dont like the wording here. maybe you can find some other way to describe your excitement, and the killer anticipation other than christmas morning. its just used too often, and you need sometihng a bit more original here. try to think of something in your life that was as exciting as this night with her.

As I sprint up the steps, I trip numerous times.
I lol'd here. hehe. may i suggest pulling out a thesaurus? it can help you choose more interesting words.

the whole last part about her name, and if people knew who she was would they care if you could not sing... i dont like it much. i think you should remove the part about you not being able to sing, and instead maybe describe how beauiful her features are, and maybe say how she is ten times more elegant and lovely than even the most engaging love song. but i thought the beginning of this was very cute. it just needs some tweaking here and there, but not bad.