It's surprising how we each perceive in our reflections. It often differs greatly from how we are perceived by others. An interesting piece especially the last stanza where despite her self dislike there was at last a spark of vanity on recognising the witch in her. Well done. Milly x
Lady Mel, an interesting write. I had more questions than answers and it intrigues me. She's a "seductress" but in everyday life she's bored and stuck in her ways. Does she just seduce in her head? Does she want to break out and be that witch? Fascinating...
1 month ago
I am already under your spell.!
Spell of your poems which you post every week.
I love it to be in this beautiful spell.
Do not release me ever, keep on posting.
Ooh Mel ... twisty! I love the dissonance you portray between how she usually looks and how she can look if she wore her hair down, the lipstick, the dress etc.
How his kiss clearly moved her but she was unable to respond to him in a way she wanted to.
He's a forbidden love maybe? She can't have him because she's "twisted into one place" ... but he's causing the "tangled mess of her head" ... she wants to be the witch, the seductress for him, but must be her "dull, laid-back" self?
I love how much this made me think! Brilliant piece! added to faves x
The mirror and the reflection of ourselves can be deceiving. Not just to anyone else but especially to ourselves. The convoluted, confusing and sometimes awe inspiring reflection of how we see ourselves to the world can be wonderful and terrible at the same time.
I imagine a witch in a fantastical situation that deceives you in the mirror, making you unaware of the struggles of vanity and beauty a woman has to go through if she is subjected to lack of confidence and self worth. This temptress whispering to you, letting you imagine the fantasies of what you can be (the relationship with your pillow) compared to what you really are (unresponsiveness when kissed) allows you to dig your vained rabbit hole even deeper, separating yourself even further from the realities of you and what you see in the mirror. To witness this separation through your vivid and alluring skillsets as a writer is a good kick in the door in writing darker fantastical narratives.
What can I say that you already know, you like making me read your poems with envy and in awe. It's what you do. Can't wait to read your next dark poem :).
I'm not good criticizing but if you want to capitalize your already good looking poem, build up on the narrative, creating darker pieces as you take us along this dysfunctional dynamic of "separation." You can add how the witch plunges the storyteller into this deeper psychosis of vanity, maybe she starts to cut her hair too short making her bleed from the scalp when she thinks she's only trimming and it's getting better in her deception?
She thinks she is putting on mascara beautifying her good looks when she is actually taking sandpaper underneath her eyes? The mascara turns to the color red and she is completely confused and taken back why the mascara is running down her face when according to the mirror (her psychosis) she is not crying for this to happen, representing both the blood of the damage from the sandpaper and the crying response of her true reflection to the world? I know it can get darker but indulge in the emotionality of what woman has to go through when she thinks she's beautiful when actually she is struggling to just be her; her conflicted and difficult relationship of vanity and self worth and the struggles of that pain she goes through on a daily basis? You can create alluring and very dark metaphors of self destruction when she thinks she is making herself better? Just ideas.
That's why I wanted you to read this and give your opinion... Hehe. I really appreciate the time, Milo! Your insight means a lot, since I am trying on this genre. Yes, I will surely explore more on the darker side of the story, write a deeper piece next time! :-)
> "She loathed her braided hair; / Twisted into one place, like herself."
> "Dull, laid-back; like herself."
About a couple of years ago, there was this girl in school that was a year behind me. I didn't hate her but I didn't like her as well, and this seemed to come from my gut. She seemed nice enough, never did anything wrong to me. Something about her just did not sit well with me. Some time later, I realised it was probably because some parts of herself reminded me too much of myself.
I like reading stuff like this, when they can take us back to a place in the past that we've shoved in the back of our minds and it's forgotten but apparently it's still there, all harmless and quiet.