I don’t miss you in sweeping waves
of anguish like the boys with cheap guitars
and dyed black hair that we ridiculed. I miss you minutely;
the minor changes in routine are mental splinters:
driving home after an eight-hour shift, aching
feet and fudge-smeared arms, I should
be calling you, rambling ridiculously and ending
with, Well, anyway, I love you. And I’ve
been taking melatonin ever since the last
time the LCD flickered, Good night, beautiful.
It is the little things...
This seems fairly lyrical for a free verse piece (at least I think it's free verse, since I counted syllables and came up with nothing). I think that the cadence might be improved in place with a little trimming or rearranging, particularly in the lengthy third line. The impressionistic parts--the last lines of the last two stanzas in particular--stand out. Very relevant in today's IM society.
Yeah, it's a free verse piece, and I wasn't considering the lyrical cadence of it at the time, I'll admit. I'll give that third line another look, see what can be done about it. Thanks for your critique! Glad you enjoyed?
Another really insightful piece
Both your poetry and prose really are some of the best I've stumbled apon here at dA. I love this. ^.^