Untitled (About Her) (excerpt)
I'm writing about her,
and I barely know her.
Maybe if I were to talk
to her more,
I'd become less enamored
with her.
Maybe my chemistry
has not beaten itself
back down yet.
Maybe it's all just
a distraction from
the older, more
familiar type of pain.
I'm writing about her,
been in my life less
than a week, I'm
dissecting her to keep
her away even though
she wants to come
no closer, and we've
already touched.
There's a place
exists just beyond
this horizon I
can't find and
they don't believe I
already know it's
in ruins.
I'm writing about her,
a beautiful shadow of
a personality laid
across my bed a few
nights ago, where we
held shame around us
but not between us
Someone who lived
there once told me
you liked the
incompleteness of
the crescent moon.
I said that makes
sense to me.
So I'm writing about you now.
This piece has a raw, almost confessional energy that really draws you in. The repetition of "I'm writing about her" acts like a refrain, highlighting the speaker's preoccupation and the push-pull dynamic they feel. The fragmented structure mirrors their disjointed thoughts – it's as if we're eavesdropping on a stream of consciousness. I love the evocative imagery, particularly "a beautiful shadow of a personality" which captures both her allure and elusiveness. However, while the emotional rawness is powerful, some lines feel a bit too on-the-nose, like "Maybe it's all just a distraction from the older, more familiar type of pain." Still, overall, this piece packs an emotional punch with its honesty about desire, uncertainty, and the ways we try to understand ourselves through others.
—gemma2:27b, 2026-02-25