Tonight was the last time I saw you as
the morning after curiosity

^ I like this a lot, and also this:

a thirty dollar cottage not for rent
housing an avalanche of starving ants
yet home to this unforgiving sonnet...
and the beauty of decay in romance.

--- I hate Shakespeare's sonnets a lot (yes, weird) ... and I think you outdone him with this! Mega-perfect.

I knew this was you...omg
this one I didn't even doubt it..

blah, I'm a little sad that I can't really understand this.
I usually feel like a boss when I decipher your metaphors.

but anywhoo, woe in the soul.

"Tonight's dream was the choreography
of every moment I described you as
an acoustic city; "

yeah, yeah I wanna curse....I love to curse omg.

the only word that rings a bell for me is acoustic. when I think of acoustic I think of music, to me its always the more soothing more pure version of something... more calm,
its where the artists put more of his own soul into what he's doing, its when all the background noises fade, and you focus solely on the message the music is trying to deliver, so If I was to think as someone as an acoustic city, I'd say someone just being very calm and very soothing. but I'm not sure if that's what you were trying to describe here.

"your rib cage has
a sailors compass and maps modesty,
your language as unknown as honesty"

love the little rhyme! omg!
here, I'm slightly confused, but lets see...compass, maps, modesty..
yep...someone gently guiding someone into direction but in a dishonest way.

"and fierce like the identity of jazz."

all hail art history...NEW ORLEANS..
people of dark color, the rage against the white, the strive for equality, the rage..the rage.. the cafe's where they'd get together and express their fond wishes... fire indeed. omg...FAVORITE LINE OF THIS WHOLE THING.. (capslock is not a crime! x0x0)

"Tonight was the last time I saw you as
the morning after curiosity"

this sounds so goood, omg.
dsafjdhs... so, if its no longer in its curiosity state, it becomes.... familiar? right? omg

"a thirty dollar cottage not for rent
housing an avalanche of starving ants"

if ants are starving, it means there's no sweetness around for them to feed themselves from? right...

"yet home to this unforgiving sonnet...
and the beauty of decay in romance"

so this sonnet, stands for not forgiving dishonesty but still finding beauty in something that is slowly fading away.

anywhoooooooooooooo... this is what I got from it anyways.

Jeezus christ,
share some talent woman
sweet mother of pearl, you're gold.

I find the words very soothing and beautiful. Its romantic and intriguing yet unfortunate and sad. A perfect combination of bliss and disappointment. 5/5

I wanted to leave a quick comment to state I am nominating this poem and will be back to write a more proper comment once I am off my phone.. it'll take ages!

Very imaginative. The juxtaposition of disparate symbols in your opening octet adds depth to the character described such as 'acoustic city;' rib cage as mapping modesty with a compass; honesty versus jazz. The language: is it unknown because it is honest, or is this a way of saying it knows not honesty? Most fascinating: why was this the last time you saw him as 'the morning after curiosity?' Is it because you no longer are intrigued, or because now you see his 'presence' as normal, or perhaps because you have incorporated him into your existence? Here is where the subtlety of your poem lets the structure of the sonnet answer these questions. The closing sextet describes duller or expulsive ideas, even though they carry a certain nuance of beauty: familiarity of a scent, a cottage not for rent (with hidden nuisances), even the poem is unforgiving. The final line paints the last stroke in this Monet masterpiece: he is no longer the ever renewing love; this is about that first moment when the end of a relationship makes itself known.
Rhyme scheme: a-b-b-a-a-b-b-a c-d-c-d-c-d, and the beats are perfect; the only criticism I have is that breaks in three lines are arbitrary; that is, the lines ending in 'as' and 'has' run on to the next without wanting a pause, so that the natural pause at the end of the line interrupts the free flow of the poem. While this works when it is done on occasion, the regular use of it is distracting.

Mel got my 2nd place vote with her awesome "Unforgiving" sonnet. Besides being a well written sonnet it also pulled me in on an emotional level, beginning with the title itself. This poem was not easy to understand but this how I translated it. She is not willing to forgive the subject of her poem, not that she can't but that she won't. The metaphor she uses comparing them to an acoustic city makes me think of a person whom she held in high esteem, a writer or poet perhaps- or even a place of sound or songs
"your rib cage has
a sailors compass and maps modesty
^^^heartless, but knowing what it is doing at all times, acting humble..
your language as unknown as honesty
^^^^^ You don't believe or understand what he is saying?
and fierce like the identity of jazz."
^^^^^ blaring loud and restless.

The mood changes with the familiarity of scent. Makes me think whoever it is may be driven by money or financial gain
" a thirty dollar cottage not for rent-
Housing an avalanche of starving ants - a hollow person or place, even the ants are starving.
Yet home to this sonnet-
I question "home to this sonnet" could be her heart or even this site.
And the beauty of decay in romance...How can decay be beautiful in romance? Only maybe when people pen beautiful sonnets and poems from heartache and sadness like Mel.

I can't believe I never came back and commented on this poem. I suck at life, and this is evidence, right here!

You piss me off 99% of the time, because your poems are too gorgeous. Not only that but you have the most peculiar rhymes, in line breaks that only you would attempt and succeed at. Throw in the fact that you actually rhymed "as" with "as", and it wasn't even a bad thing. No one else but you can do that. Only you have THAT ability.

"your rib cage has
a sailors compass and maps modesty,
your language as unknown as honesty"

this piece stuck out to me possibly more than the others, though it's all memorable. The sailors compass and maps modesty is such a gorgeous image, but it's also so sad. Are sailors compasses ever correct? Maps are never modest. The contradiction here is so strong, and it doesn't come across sarcastic at all, which only leads to the sadness. There is pain but no fire. Just ache.. and that is heartbreaking yet beautiful.

your language as unknown as honesty is I line I'm going to beg you to steal as inspiration for a poem for myself. That is freaking incredible!

The second stanza, oh my god. a thirty dollar cottage not for rent - psht. What an awesome image, especially with the painting, it so brought it to life! I love that you tossed an actual piece of art into the poem, and think you ought to do that more often. I bet you could find a lot more inspiration there.

I think sonnets is supposed to rhyme with something, and it's not connecting anywhere with me. But the poem is so gosh darn amazing that even your flaws in the piece don't seem an issue, where typically it would drive me nuts, the form being off. lol. Beautiful you!