Summer-like child (poem and critique)


Hours at the party, we met in the company of friends.

We spoke in length, I mistook the signals she sent.

There were small gestures, a wink, a touch, a grand smile.

Woosey and numb, I held off there for a while.


Our glasses clanked, her iris glow, crimson lips pout,

Gave me a kiss? I wonder what was that all about.

With a gentle hand, nurtured, she passed my maw.

And just like that, I fell in love.


Music played, bodies are sweaty, her dress flies.

Her curves outlined, captivated by the eyes,

Wolves at the den, dark corners, a flash of light.

She carelessly dances in the middle, in their sight.


„Let’s get out of here. The hour grows late.“, I pleaded.

I’m jealous. I hid it with a smile, but she can’t read it.

„You are such a jerk, Sean. Go if you want, let me dance.“

The wolves lick their fangs, ready to slide in her pants.


Rejected again, I created a distance, left her in the wild.

And the crowd swarmed around the summer-like child.

Another drink, a whiff of smoke, I gave it time to simmer.

I had regrets about it, found the room turning dimmer.


Cutting through the mass, steps led me to the floor.

A twist of head, eyes racing, she wasn’t there anymore.

The party goes on, music is deafening, I can’t call for her.

Lasers, a flash of light points at the darkest corner.


Fingers around the jaw, she sits in someone’s lap.

His hand slipping, in a moment I’m about to snap.

But my legs won’t budge, solidified, I can’t move.

Someone snatched her from me, Sean is a fool.


A pause from kissing, she turned, I catch her eyes,

Her iris absent glow, cold expression, part of me dies.

They continue caressing, lust is stronger than reason.

My body aches, it’s piercing pain as if I took a poison.


Retracking back, I went out, hyperventilating in fright.

Dripping forehead, images are flashing, I felt the bite.

Why did she hurt me like that? Was it love? Is it a game?

„Get a grip“, I said to myself, a vision of her isn’t the same.


The next day, our friends gathered, start to explain.

They speak of her, abused, consumed, dress tossed away.

Wolves had her, reaching hand, „Call me.“ She said.

Days on repeat, her beauty molten by tears, empty bed.


I answer the phone, fragile whisper got me by her side.

Moth and the lantern, rushing to her, I’m out of mind.

A hug, she is watering my shoulder, curses the ill faith.

Magma for blood, I’m boiling, decisions clouded by hate.


„Scantly dressed, at bars, you look for a partner.

If you want true love, you need to be smarter.“

At my words, I get the frown, she screams, throws me out.

Beyond sorrow, I’m under an emotional drought.


That was it, years have passed, now I’m on the street.

In same dress she guards the corner, our eyes meet.

Sharp style, fine suit, a wife and a kid holding my wrist.

I look at her, my grand love smirks at the life she missed.


Never makin’ a change, she suffered, life got her stuck,

Pain addiction, lover of the night patrols the block.

She left a cavity in the chest, I’m incapable to smile,

Now haunted by the memory of a summer-like child.


The Critique


For this month, I was really out of inspiration for what I wanted to do. Timeframe to make a story was coming to a flat line and in a moment I’ve decided to ask my Patrons what they like. They said they wanted the poem, so this one is for you River and Michael.

Writing this one, I wasn’t sure what should it be about. Should I go with one of those military melancholic ones, or something completely different? Because you were accustomed to my fictional storytelling and poems, a surprise is what I went for. It maybe is a surprise for you, however, it is something that waited for a long time to be spoken. I drag history, so I reached there to find a good story to be said. You are well aware that I am entangled with writing a novel, and it’s a futuristic romance, a story of a writer and his efforts to be recognized by the society and furthermore, to be appreciated and desired. So, with inspiration spilling from the other project, I presented you with this little poem. Not so little actually, if you count the 14 stanzas I made. The truth is, I could’ve shortened it to 6 components and I wouldn’t lose the message, but I let it go as much as I can just because I don’t want to offer you some short thing and call it a day. I find that as an abuse of my followers, as I haven’t really earned your donation by doing something so effortlessly. I am mostly speaking to you two guys here because I don’t have anyone else to talk to.

So, to explain the motives and the message, I am going into surreal a bit. As you’ve probably seen, this is a love poem, a story of two different ways of life and intellect. The thing is, some people take their injuries and learn from them, while others take nothing out from their mistakes, thus sentencing themselves to repeat them over and over again, go through pain, grow frustrated by the fact that they can’t see the exit out of the situation they are in, lash out at those who want to help them, or in this case, love them, push everyone aside and then slowly start to accept that they are not worthy of anything better in life and so they start taking pain as a reward for their misguided actions. That was a long one.

I was in a similar situation, so that event used me well to set the mood. If I recall correctly, it really happened as the poem says. At first, it was great. My crush was jolly, vibrant, kind and funny, like a child in the summer. At that time, I was her opposite and we all crave what we don’t have, so naturally, I saw something in her, something that wasn’t there, so it was more of an illusion that reality. I wanted to be true and played a handy little friend of hers. As soon as I saw that my soap bubble is done for, the truth struck me down. Very bad stage of my life. Now, what was the news about this? I was kind of a guy who was over-thinking about everything and what happened to me was a very giving topic to be analyzed and experimented on. In the manner of self-help, my conclusion came to me that I should avoid repeating the mistakes I made before, be cautious around my love interest and watch out how much I open up to people. Yeah, it seems like a classic “burned once” scenario, doesn’t it? And it is.

I defined what the most frightening thing in that story was. I don’t want to end up in a loop, where I constantly do everything like the first time and expect different results. I don’t want to be the one who is not open to new things, never tried something else in life, but be a ‘stuck to the rule’, conservative about modes of actions I must undertake and fail every time I perform them. This influenced me to think out of the box, take everything with a reserve, and therefore be impervious to possibilities. This poem was a heartfelt piece of memory that comes and goes at times I get all riled up about some girl. I always remind myself of what happened before, so I maybe haven’t moved on, maybe I am in the loop and I just pretend that the loop doesn’t exist. This deserves some over-thinking and deep analysis. Just joking, I am not going back there.

Still, I find this poem informative and educational, as it is based on true events. I hope you enjoyed what you read and be here for the next month. If you have suggestions, and let’s say you are reading this on my blog… Leave a like and a comment… Um, consider becoming a Patron. See, they both got a custom story and every month I give them personalized content.

I’m dying to see what you think about this. I’ll take any critique and advice that you might have for me.

Until the next time, thank you kindly for reading this and take care.


SummerLike Child1

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