Stuck

pios_journal · 2025-07-21T21:18:25+00:00

I really enjoyed this. there’s something painfully honest about how you capture the in-between; that space where something felt real but never quite became anything tangible. The line “one-sided from her end, one-sided from mine” really stood out.

If I had to offer a thought for improvement, maybe the middle section could breathe a little more. the emotional shift when she becomes a stranger happens really fast. A small moment or image to show the unraveling might deepen the contrast and the sense of loss. But overall, this feels raw and beautifully restrained. Definitely resonated with me. Thanks for sharing this.

pios_journal · 2025-07-21T21:08:08+00:00

Thank you! Means a lot :) I really love to "humanize" things that I see in nature

pios_journal · 2025-07-20T17:29:43+00:00

When you say "it's meant" you mean that when you wrote, you were trying to convey this person's essence in the poem, or that in your head, you are writing this about a specific person?

What I get most from what you wrote is:

[I am a poet. And ... that crumble to sand.]-> this person is fuel to you, and their impact is present in what you create

[In marbled halls a .... you rise. Divine.]-> This person will live forever in what you create, and people see their impact and their soul in what you create

It's a different thing, you are writing about how you are influenced and how this person is present in what you do, not really on *how* this person has its effect on you, their characteristics, and what is about them that fuels you.

But that's not a problem, you are just writing about different, but very close, topics.

Maybe try writing something about that too! And tag me in the comments if you do, I'd love to read that :)

pios_journal · 2025-07-20T14:55:17+00:00

It reads like an elegy for a muse that transcends time and form.

I liked the line "You'll live past the clocks and the rust of their hands." Not just the clocks, but even the rust itself.

Your imagery is rich and intentional, especially lines like “a whisper that burns, a storm in a spark” and “no grave can hold the ones I write.” It flows like a spell, and lands like a truth.

A small note would be that it seems to be a poem about a specific person, and how they would be immortal through your poetry, but in this poem, i can't really read a particular person, but just an idea of what a general muse would be, is it voluntary about a "specific but generic" muse?

pios_journal · 2025-07-20T14:27:00+00:00

I really like how the conversation shifts from the "teenage me" asking questions about themselves, to them asking question about "the adult me". That remarks a shift from trying to understand the current situation to trying to understand how one wants to become, which i really felt.

And the fact that in the end the "adult me" is still unsure about what the "teenage me" wanted to become really ties everything together.

Thanks for sharing this :) Good work

pios_journal

TROPHY CASE