Marking Minutes

[Wildcard]

This is really good. But then again, that doesn't shock me at all coming from you.

I have a hard time thinking of some of the thoughts this poem conjures without getting a little fucked up emotionally over it and that is obviously a good sign.

It's only 4:05
on Friday
and I miss your face; --I have a very personal connection with this phrase so I am totally biased for it. I can't imagine a better way to start this poem (if I could I would make some money, I think )

the December embers --really cute
that introduced us
with heavy fists and microphones

the close cropped crown
I remember as impossible,

the mischevious mouth -- I thought it was 'mischievous'
that bleeds boyish charm
even when achingly stingy. --I'm not quite connecting to this. I think it may be a bit too ambiguous or maybe I am a bit too re-tard-ed

I long to trace
the quiet lines
only I know are there,
etched by phantoms
with tiny daggers... --nothing constructive. this just made me smile and have a strange desire to forgo the capitalization of the first letter in my sentences

It's 4:08
on Friday afternoon
and I'm missing
the memory map --The only part that I stumbled on. Not the flow- it fits fine, I just wanted something more personal than map here . . . and memory map brings up all sorts of other images that are kind of distracting to me. I love you.
of your face.

All in all I like this very much. In fact, this is the first poem of yours that I've read and connected with on such a personal level. +1 for the share.