For every goodbye I ever gave,

Hey there,

Before I get started, I'll just say that everything posted in this critique is purely opinion and is entirely at your discretion to disregard.

Awesome. Let's start with Vision.

I gave a solid 4.5 on vision because I feel like the groundwork for the emotion you wanted to convey came through clearly. Obviously, losing this person was very traumatic for you (at least at the time; I hope it's gotten easier since.)

It's clear you set out with that feeling of loss, of disappointment and betrayal, from the start. In that respect, the poem shines.

As for originality, though, this piece didn't stick out to me. Nothing about it throttled me and begged me to keep reading.

Betrayal is a fairly run-of-the-mill topic for poetry, and I don't feel that the imagery or word choices in this piece affected that much. The opening line, "There is a void that has yet to be filled," seems distant and overly withdrawn.

There are ways to portray that emptiness better, I feel. I know you're capable of finding them.

As far as technique is concerned, I thought a 3.5 seemed fair. The poem is well-written, don't get me wrong, but the word choices and syntax are a bit frail in places. I always (try to) treat poems like a story, because it's just another form of communication at its basest. I feel there are a few places where a little bit of work can fix some of that communication.

"You probably don't remember when we stayed up all night counting stars or how this world wasn't actually real."

The first part of that is fine, but I'm a little hung up on the second bit. "How this world wasn't actually real," meaning "You probably don't remember how this world wasn't actually real." Right?

Is that somehow tied in with the phrase "We were our own gods?"

If so, a little more background (without giving it all away) might be helpful there. Without it, I'm (from a surface view) questioning whether that's an inside joke or reference. If it isn't, I'm left wondering why you're concerned with losing someone in a world that isn't real?

"Amnesia was written in the creases of your skin like narcotic." I'm not sure if there's a hidden meaning behind that, but it doesn't make sense to me.

Like "a" narcotic? If so, how can a narcotic be written in the creases of someone's skin? Are you saying that her amnesia was reminiscent of the effects of a narcotic? Are you talking about a creased forehead, as in confusion? Or literally, creased skin from aging? Clarification there would help tremendously.

"The day your faith died was the day your mother whispered "He's living with her now" and you stopped breathing long enough to forget I was standing there, too."

I understand the need to keep mystery alive in poems, but without some kind of reference to who "He" and "her" are, I as a reader have no reason to care about why they're mentioned. Is this a brother? A father? A boyfriend? Who is the her? Is the her you?

The significance of the poem changes greatly depending on who "he" is, and who the "her" is. If it's a brother, perhaps that the mother's lost custody of to her ex husband and his new wife, that's a drastically different emotion from a "he" being an ex husband who's moved in with another woman.

Without any understanding of those two, it's a fuse with no dynamite. I want to know, and will never get that answer. That frustrates readers, and trust me, you don't want frustration unless that's what you set out to create.

Overall, I'd say the poem had about a 3.5 impact with me. I can appreciate the sentiment of losing someone, especially when their life consumes them to the point that they move on without you. That kind of betrayal, whether intentional or not, is never easy to deal with. However, I feel like the emotions behind the event have probably cooled thus far, and that cooling shows in the poem.

It feels distant, withdrawn, and cold in places, but warm with bite in others. It falls somewhere between a chill, bitter memory and a vivid, burning indignation. I feel like it doesn't commit to either, and as a result, comes across a bit lukewarm. Well-written, well put together, but not necessarily gripping or stirring.

In short, I enjoyed this piece from beginning to end. I feel that it could be much more, but what's there already is a cut above most other poems.

Thank you for submitting it.