The moon is slut colored red. Yes!!! Love this

hello dearest poet you make me wonder who you are I think you know me from DU…this is so full of hunger and passion ❤️ p.s there were only a few that really impressed me but clearly you are one…

I like how the poem moves beautifully from quiet whispers to a bold, sensual crescendo. The shift from the quiet “loneliness of lips” to the sudden, overwhelming urgency of the final lines is brilliant. I never would have thought to describe the moon as “slut coloured red” -that vivid, daring language perfectly captures the poem’s alive energy.

i love how you interpret my tatty words. you just may have inspired me to write something called ‘slut’. that word carries such negative connotations, but within the language lexicon, it is a universal desire scream. thank you romaj.

IDK, the world doesn’t care about any of us. It just keep rolling along. Don’t you think it is up to us to care about feelings? About the feelings of others, about how we relate to the world, all life, and the people who inhabit it? In this sense, you are not a “glitch” but an integral part of everything around you.

I realize this is one part of a larger story (Chapter 17) and I have not as yet read all the chapters, so my comment may be way off base. If so forgive me. But I personally think we all are like stones cast on calm water and the ripples we leave affect the world around us. So, we are all “glitches”. Besides, Amethyste as a crystal is a warm calming stone so those feelings may be some warmth cast into this cold, cold, cold world.

Thanks for your chapter, hope I didn’t over step.
-Curt

Only a human cares about other human feelings. We make our own distracted universe. But it is isolated.

you are a master writer so full of passion makes me long to know you ❤️

Raw and unforgettable, this poem is an unfiltered outpouring of a messy, deeply-felt heartbreak.

Grief, love, and memory twist together like the cube itself, and the striking imagery -from the “petrol pirouette” to the painful truth that “yellow bleeding into orange doesn’t always promise a sunset” perfectly captures that internal chaos.

The frustration of the Rubik’s Cube beautifully reflects the struggle to reconcile a beautiful memory with the painful reality of loss and betrayal.

I love it. It’s brilliant and beautifully written.