go follow my main poetry account @asterfires
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Not today Justin
NASA
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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Today's Document
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies
The Stonewall Inn

oozey mess
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@asterfiresthoughts
go follow my main poetry account @asterfires
I'll be active on it soon

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A rant on not liking makeup and beauty
Before I start this rant, I want to preface that this is not me saying "I'm not like other girls". I cringe when I think back on my "not like other girls" phase, and I think that teenage girls and their interests are always looked down upon by society. I'm a fully grown adult, and I am just voicing my opinions on my experience, knowing that I am not alone or unique in this experience.
Growing up, I never really liked makeup or beauty. I have no idea why, but if a party included getting makeup done or nails done, I would do the least possible necessary. I never really let myself have fun with crazy makeup or even something as simple as face paint as a child. I was a strict rule-follower as a kid, and I think I made arbitrary rules for myself to follow. I never did my own hair until the start of secondary school; my mum would do my hair in a ponytail every single day. The outfits I put together were atrocious, the colours would not match, and I would dress most of the time in jeans and a T-shirt.
This sufficed for quite a long time, but then I grew older. Everyone around me seemed to have their style figured out, and I just wanted to fit in. I dressed in different "aesthetics" all the time, wearing clothes from the boys' section, dresses, skirts, and anything else. I wore whatever I wanted, and my hair was always in a poorly done side plait like Katniss.
I thought dressing like this was enough again, but when I got to sixth form, it was not. Everyone was dressed nicely in unique styles, with good hair and good makeup. Every single day. Eventually, I settled on a style. I chose clothes and colours I liked to wear, and things started to fit in. Finally, I figure I want to/need to figure out how to do makeup. I know I need to figure out how to do hair.
My point is, why? Why do I need to partake in all these different aspects as a woman? I do like looking and feeling pretty, but I don't have a passion for fashion like a Bratz doll. I just like looking presentable and wearing something that suits me. That's sufficient, yes. But it feels like there is the expectation to always look beautiful in everything. To cover what you really look like underneath everything, because no one would like that part of you.
You have to be good at makeup and hair and nails and fashion and walking in heels. Everybody I know is amazing at all those things, and I love that for them, but it feels exhausting. Sometimes, it sounds like I'm just submitting to the industry when I play right into their hands with my skin care routines and makeup and wanting to learn how to care for my hair.
It's hard to know how much of the world I know is influenced by what others have dictated about how I should think or feel. Would I have chosen to wear makeup ever if I didn't feel some sort of societal pressure to do so? Would I really care about looking after my hair if there wasn't a voice of constant comparison saying I had to? I'm not sure.
Women support women, though. Everyone deserves to feel beautiful, whatever that means for them.
The Necessary Construction
And so, the village of voices forms around me to construct my person The quantity of them is enough to make me subservient to anyone who speaks louder than a mute whisper
Their screams resound through the empty halls of my featherlight frame or was it my name that I meant? My brain aches with dead weight, as another person steps in to control the game
But I, in parts, have been formed for such a time as this Born from the yoke of my mother's pain or yolk, cracked and runny and youthful, like Queen Esther broken for love of her people
I take up the cornucopia and the village feasts But I, the king, can only eat from my darling's hands And so, I starve and waste away from the pleasures of simple day
Corridors through my skull are filled with kid-like laughter All the voices are happier than I will ever be A joy only experienced when their existence becomes something greater than fragmentary When they get to live
I know I take life for granted, that's a guarantee And I'm being shown up by other parts of me And I miss being myself undoubtedly Alone and just me
But the lie has been manufactured (a lie for survival) that I am not alone And so the village rides its own gossip and on these whispers do I live
When I was maybe 14 or so, I made tulpas to cope with the lack of counselling or therapy I was getting. Sharing their identities feels a bit wrong because they're still precious to me. But tulpas are basically characters in your head which you create, that become so vivid in construct that they feel and act separate from you and can take control of the body.
My tulpas knew that they were there only to look after me, and only took over when necessary. That being said, it did make my headspace really loud having them comment all the time. I would need to sit down and let everyone speak, so it wouldn't be constant arguments about my choices.
Honestly, they helped me stay sane and go through very difficult periods where I was mostly alone. I feel as though now I hold all parts of them in me, and there's no need to separate them anymore. I'm grateful they kept me alive and focused on God, even when I wasn't.
★Love from Aster★
Nolan's Odysseus (a character study shown through trinkets)
SPOILERS FOR NOLAN'S ODYSSEY
In my previous post, I critiqued Nolan's The Odyssey for creating an Odysseus that is not as cunning as he should be, and pinpointed it to the idea that modern audiences do not find cunning to be a palatable or desirable trait. So what features do we favour that come across in Odysseus' character? And how does this relate to the Odysseus of Homer?
As I was watching Nolan's Odyssey (and eating my smuggled Tesco popcorn), I was struck by the number of objects Odysseus holds on to for safekeeping. Three objects, trinkets essentially, as their value is assigned by characters and not in the material itself, find their way in and out of Odysseus' hands. These objects were: Penelope's pin of Athena, Antinous' short straw, and the clothes ring of one of Odysseus' fallen men. Each of these objects represents one of Odysseus' major defining character traits in this adaptation of The Odyssey.
First, I shall analyse the most easily forgotten one, the clothes ring of one of Odysseus' men. Odysseus picks this up on the floor of the Cyclops' cave and wears it as a ring on his finger. Nolan's Odysseus deeply cares about his fallen men, and he remembers and carries the burden of losing them with him. He thinks as a leader would think about his whole crew, and not solely as an individual. He is grieved by Tiresias' prophecy because he thinks there has to be a way they can all get home. He will do anything to defy the gods and Fates for his men to also reach their homecoming; something which he rationally knows is not possible.
Unfortunately, Homer's Odysseus is not as considerate, when his men are dying at the hands of the Cyclops. He recounts their deaths matter-of-factly:
"...he once more snatched two of us and prepared his supper." - 9.343
And later, he states his full government name and address (practically handing over his Ithaca ID) just so he can boast about outsmarting the Cyclops. When his crew tries to pacify him, and so prevent Poseidon's all-defining vengeance, they fail.
Nolan's Odysseus is struck by the death of his comrades, and chooses to remember the unnecessary death, which was caused by his own folly for trusting that everyone follows "Zeus' law" (Xenia). In an argument with Eurylochus, Nolan's Odysseus gives the clothes ring to him as a reminder that he remembers the unnecessary deaths that have been caused and the need for proper burial rites. When he finds this in Circe's home, he knows for certain his men have been turned into pigs, and retribution must be made. On their own, his men need his direct guidance, and he seems to morph with Aeneas' character in the Aeneid, as a good, pastoral leader of his men. He cannot be selfish and leave them, even though everything he has learnt about Greek heroism goes against this conclusion. Because he cares about his men, he is struck with guilt that makes the process of remembering on Calypso's island all the more painful. We watch on screen a trusted man who failed his men. A man who goes to the gates of the Underworld and sees his fleet. This object has no direct resolution; it falls into obscurity after Eurylochus dies, showing that Odysseus was unable to return his men home.
Secondly, we come to Antinous's lot straw, which he gave to Sinon in an act of cowardice. While Sinon is still alive, he gives the object to Odysseus, who vows to return it to Sinon's father and embellish the stories of his son's prestige in battle. At this moment, the object characterises Odysseus' compassion for his citizens. He has complete trust in Sinon's character integrity and pities his father's situation, so, like a good king, he vows to return the straw as proof of Sinon's greatness. The price of embellishing stories is a worthy one to pay. Odysseus LOVES telling a good story; let's be honest with ourselves.
But when he runs into Sinon in the Gates of the Underworld, the significance of this object shifts. Sinon's father died in poverty, not looked after by Antinous as promised. Sinon himself died from Odysseus' lie, and obligates Odysseus to return the shame to Antinous by giving him the short straw back. The tone of the object shifts suddenly, not from one of care or duty but of revenge. This is one of Odysseus character traits that comes across very strongly in adaptations of Homer's poem. However, in Nolan's adaptation, his revenge seems less self-focused than in the original. He kills the suitors because of how his household, wife and son were treated, and he kills Antinous specifically to avenge Sinon. His need for revenge culminates in a rage, where he allows nobody but himself to kill the suitors.
This object also meets a resolution as it is returned to Antinous, the original owner. First, Odysseus offers it up to him as a beggar named Sinon. Antinous denies any recollection of this object, and Odysseus takes it back. However, in an act of pure wrath as he is killing Antinous, he tells him to share a message to Sinon's shade in Hades, that he has returned his shame. He shoves the lot straw into Antinous' mouth and kills him. Although we do not see this object reach Sinon, we feel the revenge Odysseus has done on another's behalf as a merit to his character, and a necessary aspect of his own.
Last, but most certainly not least, Odysseus is shown as a loyal husband through Penelope's Athena pin. We see Penelope give Odysseus the pin at the start of the film as a method of ascertaining if someone has seen him. Odysseus, in the early parts of his travels, when luck is still on his side, holds tightly to the pin, riddled with the desire to go home and see his wife. Unfortunately, he meets many hardships along the way and is thrown off course, doomed to arrive home late. On Calypso's island, before he is unknowingly disloyal to his wife, through the invitation of the pleasantries of another woman, he holds the pin tightly in his comatose state. As the effects of the lotus wear off, the pin reminds him of his purpose in returning to his family, bringing memories of them to the forefront of his mind. This is enough to grant him the motivation to brave the journey home.
Of course, the pin is not just of anything; it is the pin of Odysseus' patron goddess, Athena. She is the first person he sees when he washes up on the shore of the island of Ithaca. The pin thus symbolises protection, wisdom, and godlike qualities in Odysseus and Penelope. Although we do not see much of Athena, we see a lot of Athena's character in Odysseus. Her straightforward attitude, calm under pressure character, and propensity for deep emotion are reflected in the character of Odysseus.
Upon arriving, he proves to Penelope that he knew Odysseus by discussing the pin, and makes her cry by revealing that he never took it off. Odysseus' loyalty is the biggest divergence from the original poem. Although he says that he wishes to go home to his wife, Homer's Odysseus cheats on her repeatedly. It seems in the original text that Odysseus is more concerned with just being in his own house:
"I long to reach my home and see the day of my return. It is my never-failing wish."
But the Odysseus of Nolan is invariably loyal (when conscious of it) and determined to return to Penelope, not just return home. It is this love that he has for Penelope and Telemachus that guides his attitude towards his homestead, and strengthens his resolve in revenge.
This object is seen returned to its rightful owner, as Penelope wears the pin when they sail West, into the prevailing sunset, with her husband at her side.
In Western society, we favour loyalty, good leadership, justice, and compassion. Odysseus portrays these attributes in the 2026 film, but in the poem, he is cunning, self-preserving, ruthless, and a wanderer. None of these attributes is necessarily better than the others; they are just different. But it's worth considering what makes a hero a hero.
I don't think we as a society want to admit how easily influenced we are by the media we consume.
I don't think we necessarily always pause to reflect before our reactions and subconscious takes over.
I think we are afraid to admit that we regurgitate what we are served, and re-served, until one day someone points out that what we are eating is no longer appetising.
I don't think you realise how easily you can slip into my words and agree with them, if I phrase them in such a way.
I don't think we always question, when a nod is much easier most days.

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Modern Odyssey Adaptations (and what they get wrong about Odysseus)
SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHRISTOPHER NOLAN'S ADAPTATION
Tell me, Muse, if the ever-wily Odysseus will ever be portrayed well by modern media. Tell us if there is a correct depiction of his cunning trials, and start at whichever point you will.
I watched Christopher Nolan's adaptation of 'The Odyssey' today, and I enjoyed it. I went in with an open mind, but did not expect to enjoy it half as much as I did. However, I wish to truly archive my thoughts before they are changed by those of peers, and online reviewers. I am writing this short article as a form of praise, criticism, and a piece of my initial thoughts.
If you seek a review of several different inconsistencies, look elsewhere. I used to be a person who enjoyed very nitpicky reviews, but I no longer do. Nolan's Odyssey was never going to be the same as Homer's Odyssey because it's an adaptation, and one made to suit a completely different time period. It was never going to have all the aspects that the original poem had. And yes, I did miss certain episodes, such as Nausicaa, the lotus eaters, and Hermes (seriously, where was Hermes?) However, I still thought Nolan had captured the essence of the story.
Yet, I feel as though I keep seeing modern adaptations miss a crucial part of Odysseus: his cunning. If Helen was known as the most beautiful woman, then Odysseus was clearly known as the most cunning one. In Nolan's Odyssey, people around him talk about how Odysseus tried to be the smartest in the room, when he knew he would not be the strongest one. Yet, what were his great intellectual feats? The Trojan Horse was certainly one, but near the end of the movie, he undermines himself in that front. He turns up at the palace as a beggar, but not by his own thought, only by the direct advice of Agamemnon. Sure, he orchestrates all this, but the only thing that comes through is that he is resourceful and good at planning, not incredibly cunning. There are important missing moments, such as telling the Cyclops his name is Nobody, which means that his quick thinking is undermined. Plus, by being force-fed lotus fruit, Odysseus's entire character is sabotaged by forgetting his past. If Odysseus was constantly trying to escape Calypso, gathering material to make a raft in secret, manipulating her with kindness, because he knew she could easily overpower him as a goddess, this would have been more cunning.
But these are standalone moments; Odysseus' cunning should come through in every action that Odysseus chooses. He makes efforts out of empathy and care for his men, certainly, but he is a strategist above all else. It's why he didn't tell his men about Scylla, it's why he wanted Sinon to believe his lie rather than tell him the truth. However, what I fault the adaptation for is that he is too pensive. He looks back on his actions, and he regrets them. Book/Poem Odysseus wouldn't have. He would have assumed that the action he took was right, no matter the outcome, because he always kept moving forward. He is the most cunning man alive; why would he distrust his decisions?
However, this issue does not solely resonate with this adaptation of 'The Odyssey'; I also saw a similar issue with Epic the Musical. Again, I must preface this by saying, I love Epic. I think it's great. I know a lot of the songs, and Jorge was once my most listened to artist. However, I don't think the musical and the fandom got Odysseus' character. Instead, his character became a caricature of a silly, confused guy, who was sort of simultaneously infantilised and sexualised by some people within the fandom. Odysseus was never fun and silly, but Jorge, who played him, is. That meant that a lot of the promotional videos of the songs looked fun, even though Odysseus is a more serious character.
Epic is not as serious as Nolan's Odyssey; that's not necessarily a bad thing. It can bring the Odyssey to a wider range of audiences and allow classic myths to be consumed in a fun way. But the message and Odysseus' character were misconstrued. As stated above, Odysseus is not as cunning, and instead of relying on his wits, he is made to rely on his strength and ruthlessness. Although all his actions point towards a wiser Odysseus (one who knows to strike in the darkness, to light torches for Scylla, and many other things), the way Jorge chooses to portray this as a result of ruthlessness and not cunning, means it is not as effective as the original.
Odysseus also looks for Athena to be his friend, but why? Any version of Odysseus would know the separation between gods and humans, but this Odysseus prioritises friendship, not using Athena to his advantage. Seriously, he was a bit too chill about losing Athena as a Patron when he knew she was the only reason he had gotten so far.
What I mean to say is that Odysseus' character is difficult to grasp in an adaptation. When I studied it, we got into debates on whether he was truly a good leader who cared about his crew or was just in it for himself in the end. But one of the things we always agreed on was his cunning. Odysseus never stopped lying, cheating, deceiving, and making up plans on the fly. He didn't necessarily make wise decisions that considered the wrath of the gods or the well-being of his companions, but he made cunning decisions. Although it's morally ambiguous, it's what got Odysseus home. Not his love for his men, not his pity for those he had lost, just pure manipulation.
I think we are scared of Odysseus being morally ambiguous as a hero; we want him to be good so badly. Amoral actions can lead to good ends, but does that justify the means? In Odysseus' case, probably. In Agamemnon's case, definitely not.
Electric Summer
Melting, square eyes burned by the electric
High heat, low brightness even in summer eclectic
High saturation, depraved energy
First person summer? No, it will never be.
★
Fighting off the depression summer gang xoxo
reading 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower'
I started the book from a very judgemental stand point. I didn't like Charlie as a character, he was annoying, creepy at times, and self-centred. But as I went through the book I started to like him more as a protagonist. He was self-centred in the way teenagers are, where they think their personal world is the only world which exists (I'm still a teenager and can vouch for this).
Yet, Charlie as a character is aware that so many other worlds outside his own exist. He seems almost overwhelmed by this possibility. He knows everyone is equally as complex as him, and struggles to cope with this reality. He deeply understands people around him because he understands the depth of his own emotions.
He looks for beauty in the world, even though it has brought him a great amount of pain. That's highly admirable. And he stands up for others, even if he doesn't stand up for himself, because he cares.
I have more random thoughts and feelings that I'll compile in a text posts, but I thought I had to share my prejudices on this book. I was proven wrong, sorry Tumblr lol.
In reference to my poem Root I have taken photos to archive my old animal crossing house in New Leaf from way back when.
I am planning to change this house and remodel but I wanted to show the joy, craze and whimsy of a literal child designing their safe place.
Root
lethargy gently descends over you
as your eyelids open
before you is a lazy dream
half-constructed and haphazard
but a sanctuary nevertheless
it's all-encompassing
and the air has the gravity of book-store dust
delicate but heavyweight
no one is here to startle you awake
yet you feel the warm presence of someone known
if you were to awake properly maybe you could stretch your arms
back to the walls of your mind
even though your illusory glance makes it seem as it would only touch cold painted walls
from the left a golden sun waterstrokes across your vision
and it gently stains your skin with heat as it streaks past
it is but a dream of your root
yours
nothing but a dream
★
a quick poem I wrote to show what it means to be dissociated in a home you know and feel safe but stuck in your head
or maybe it could mean remembering some past memory of home and being unable to return
or maybe it's whatever you want it to be

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"I was getting tired of the literary life, if this was the literary life that I was leading, and already missed not working and felt the death loneliness that comes at the end of every day that is wasted in your life."
- Ernest Hemingway in 'A Moveable Feast' p144
Pepsi-Boy
(A study of the male self)
And he swore a monetary allegiance to Pepsi when he was eleven
Because to him Coca-Cola tasted like fermented kerosene,
and capitalistic regret in a plastic Americana set
The bubbles boiled past his unkissed lips and combined into saline
It made him want to spit
in the street like his dad once did
His dad who fled, as he now flees
like the fox only Orion sees
who runs across carparks
emaciated and cowering from attention
It searches aluminium cans for any remnants of sweet ichor
but always returns empty
You see, Pepsi was his first ever choice
The only thing he knew about himself
after puberty had made his head full of static.
It threaded hormones through his brain
He was stuck in between radio stations
Tuning into adulthood was a frequency unknown
Becoming of age did not mean he could piece himself together
But Pepsi is easy because you can order it on demand
And it is delicious to be a man and give commands
He enjoyed anticipation but was unsure why
He advertised something unknown with his big blue billboard eyes
He always acted out of turn and would rarely apologise
But you could see he wore the guilt rather tight
In him there was a thirst scratching his Adam's apple out
It's just below the skin.
When it bursts he'll fizz up and over,
And it will drown him from within
The girl who saw him was like lukewarm Pepsi
She had little fizz from being shaken up
A multi-pack sold separately
She was dying to be drank
That summer she drank so much Pepsi Max
It started to taste like garbage juice in her mouth
She did not know loyalties could be so easily changed
He was never a chaser
He tripped out of the American dream, you see?
This man was from a northern Neverland
And like a lost boy, he would always lose his Wendy
If he didn't say what he wanted
What did he want?
Pepsi, no ice, from the tap
No straw, keep it simple, full fat
Sipping it slowly at the bar
As the hamburger grease seeps down his fingers
He wanted to take his time
But he did not know what he was waiting for
Just that the release of tension would be greater than his present existence
Did he wait for a woman?
He wasn't sure
That choice was dictated for him before he was even born
He could replay his father's mistakes and fall addicted to porn
Have red sex like coca-cola
Too sickly sweet
He wanted something real, to wait, to wait, to wait
To breathe
And to drink lukewarm Pepsi
★
wrote part of this poem on royale high because I was bored
peak
anyway this poem to me is trying to see outside the self and see life from another person's perspective but still somehow getting it wrong. Like the story is likely told from the girl who "saw him", but it's initially implied that it must be from a third person perspective that follows the boy. Yet, it never seems to pinpoint him exactly correctly, it can't understand his reasonings. I thought it showed a lack of communication and a difference between how the self is perceived and how it is experienced.
the haircut (corruption)
With one swipe of the blade Or a couple more in succession of a restless fury Unquenched by the fraudulent appearance of purity against a harlot’s face My long hair fell with a sigh down my shoulders, kissing my neck in false ecstasy I lean into it's false narratives, it is beautiful to be touched Oh to be beautiful again! But to be beautiful you must be admired and I have ever been the admirer
I caught sight of myself in the mirror and saw it for the first time My propensity for corruption My hypersexualisation in androgynous display Most pornographic of connotations Was my sex hair- in the most crudest sense of the word Finally the innocent demeanour was brought down with the cut The purity I held onto wrenched apart and the truth finally revealed And all look and all stare and all comment At my beautifully sexual and pornographic short hair
★
I debated posting this, but I don't feel this way anymore and thought the poem was such an interesting time-capsule that I had to bring it up. I remember feeling so odd about my hair and being unable to recognise myself in the mirror.
My hair's gone long now, it's been a year since this haircut. I wonder if I fear cutting it. Hmm...
The Poets are Calling
Call back to me poets Send me back the muses From me you have taken my inspiration And dotted me with bruises
Send back for me, friends Foes or enemies The precursor need not matter I need the spirit in me
To lift a pen, again To write with a metaphor trail To be inspired again To not watch every rhyme fail
To live, to fall and to fall in love To give, to take, to observe Infinite possibilities, oh muse If you would be of use
Can you hear my echo, In the cave of the dead? If all the poets died together, Where is the disease bred?
In the mind, the soul, the body? The pen, the sword, the tongue? Is it bred anywhere and everywhere Or maybe for those special ones?
I'll die among the poets They'll welcome me home We'll be buried in flowers Face turned to the liminal
And if they ask who I was The words will speak my name They will tell my story I will have my fame
Achilles was a poet, Bathed in full glory, Died in full blood, And yet we know his story.
I will be just like him I will seek my fame Call it kleos or not In the end it's all to gain
Come, inspire me muses. Let me see the lakes of the poets Let me reach the mountains of the recluses Our country's geniuses
Crown everything in full gold Full splendour and radiance Let nothing ever age Let everything be momentaneous
I will speak of the flowers in the fields I will touch the river bed I will give way to nature I will give way to death
Let me speak And, oh poets, may you listen! I want to be among the greats I want to be reminiscent
Of the whisps of the past That whisper sweetly in our ear Of the haunts of the future That stand so close and near
And last of all Of the sight of the present And all the action it beholds:
Hold the flower, lie down, and take your last breath
Tonight we die among the poets
For fun, I answered the 36 questions with my parents once, and when it came to what would you want to be famous for, I said poetry. Well, a while ago I wrote a poem about exactly once in an era where I really wanted my poems to get recognised in some way. I'm a lot more chill about it now I think, it's still a desire of mine but not a need. Sometimes I freak out and get in my head that poetry's the only thing I am good at and so I would need recognition, which is just stupid because just because you like something you can't stake your whole self-worth on it. I like poetry but at the end of the day, my whole self-worth can't be in my poems or anything else. It's not in the words I write, it's in the art of what I am: a created being. That's way more beautiful than anything else I write and if I am a poem in myself then my poetry does not define my worth.
'We have become his poetry, a re-created people that will fulfill the destiny he has given each of us, for we are joined to Jesus, the Anointed One. Even before we were born, God planned in advance our destiny and the good works we would do to fulfill it!' Ephesians 2:10
Call to run
Your face echoes walking among the chasms on highways of wind and silver. Misery and discordance awake like dust from footsteps reverberating through a forest of emptiness
The air is weaponised with arrows of besiegement And I am like Lady Godiva, clothed only by Saint Chastity Stimulated by the Cold to run
Trip and tumble down each causeway paved in sugar memories; those that only briefly linger on the buds, but cause toothache Too momentary, like the scenes I trundle pass Doll house recreations and manic situations And a hallucinatory voice void of souls
I run far away into the land of dreams Where you haunt me with a thrice pierced tongue each marked for a lie. You taunt me with your sharpened iron upon iron smile Right before I awake from my metamorphizing cocoon
Sorry it has been so long!! This is technically still Nihitober, I haven't forgotten to do refuse, I just can't post it until I get the go ahead as it has been submitted as an assignment. Interestingly, I thought I lost this poem, until I found it recently. To me this poem is about running away from a relationship and forgetting their face slowly. I wonder what it means to y'all.

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