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2/17/2019 7:18:08 AM Sanja Cokolic Posts: 13	Don't turn your colors on me divulgation of your shortcomings came too quickly we inhabit different spectrum locations your chambers are heated my feet are too cold so I run told you I'll travel you asked – where and if I'm going to bring you something bought you something and left it to myself so I can be reminded in the end I didn't surrender it to you my words won't wear your surname they are just passersby through your warm palette won't leave any imprint and you threatened to become my blueprint it sounded like floating in sparkling lake and annunciation of blood is trying to suffocate me in that iron midst as your eyes are attempting to detour from heavy conversations that special room where you said you've folded me became overcrowded so I run instead of coming after me your blistering penetration fractured my muscle and left in vast taint which overflowed through colors bruising the sanity of my expectancy I did it again by premature innocence thought this time you won't incinerate me now those particles are shading your barriers trying to punish me with that silent treatment won't dye the sound of my colors I'm engraved in your canvas edited by Christina Addison on 2/17/2019
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2/17/2019 10:20:20 PM Jack Webster Posts: 255	There is really no experience here for the reader to have. The subject is not necessarily poorly chosen, though. Although the subject is left rather undefined. What I would do is write a second draft, and pretend you are a newspaper reporter. Not an ordinary reporter, but a special kind of reporter that speaks in poetry. The author has had an experience, and now she has the opportunity to recreate that experience for the reader, not exactly perhaps, but filtered through the poet's unspoken insight edited by superlativedeleted on 2/17/2019
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