the sky is clouding my thoughts

Tonight, the sky is grey.

     Plain grey. No whimsical pink tint, nor melancholy blue tone. Just grey. Right at the intersection between black and white, and light and dark.

     If this sky had a smell, it would smell of paper. Crisp, fresh sheets of white paper. It would smell inky and hyperborean. Like the office of a respectable businessman. Like a room that had just been painted. The sky would sound like pennies being spilt onto a sidewalk out of the pocket of a child on a journey to buy candy.

     I far preferred the tranquil, intimate shade of yellow that had lit the sky just one hour ago to the stark white blandness of the sky now.  It feels… colder. And while the buttery golden fog had washed away my sadness, the grey sky seems to have created more problems and unrealistic scenarios for my mind to ponder.

     Who knew the shade of the sky could have such an impact?

     I’ve been sitting here under the sky for an eternity.

Author's Note

constructive criticism, please

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

Hugo, first off, you can write! This could be in a novel, maybe a protagonist's monologue. It's very good. Though it's acceptable as prose, I'd encourage you to restructure it as poem with a few stanzas, a few verses in each, maybe with a few indents to break, draw or redirect the reader's attention. You could then eliminate or minimize the punctuation, and pare a few prepositions (e.g., get rid of some of the "of"s by restructuring the sentence or phrase.

You've used some effective, well-placed literary devices in this poem (e.g., simile, alliteration), and those work well in whatever format you choose. Please know I'm not an academic or scholar. So, I'd encourage you to wait and read what others say before editing this one. I look forward to reading more of your work. Happy writing!