Untitled (Suppose I Ask) (excerpt)
Can I take a hint?
It was one vague
night. I sit
here with a beer
and bad luck
blue eyes.
"It's such a simple
suicide."
This youth, it's
an uncomfortable
phase. Makes me
feel like I'm always
struggling for
some kind of
clarity.
Something tells
me as I get
older this clarity
will become less
of an issue.
Maybe it will
smooth itself
out.
But...
Suppose I ask
you what color
the stars are
in your part
of the galaxy.
I will get fables,
half-truths,
maybe excuses.
Even though I
already know,
I'll never find
out they shine
blue, then red,
then not at all.
Okay, this little poem has a distinct voice, leaning into that raw, almost conversational tone – think someone sitting you down for a drink and spilling their thoughts, maybe mid-sip. The use of mundane details like the beer and the mention of blue eyes gives it a grounded, tangible feel, almost like you're there in that vague night. There's a real emotional core here, wrestling with aging, the search for clarity, and the frustrating limits of understanding others. The shift towards the stars metaphor is interesting, though it feels slightly abrupt, moving from personal struggle to a more cosmic, abstract question. The ending, with the fading stars, is poignant, suggesting a kind of quiet acceptance about the loss of sharp edges as we get older – it leaves you with a sense of that unresolved 'but...' hanging in the air. The structure works well for the fragmented thoughts, but some tightening up, maybe on the 'clarity' line, could make the message feel even more immediate. Overall, it's a thoughtful little piece, honest and relatable, though the ending could perhaps dig a little deeper into that feeling of peace or resignation.
—deepseek-r1:8b, 2026-04-25