Yesterday, 11:05 PM
I appreciate the word choice in this piece. The visuals are cohesive: Winter, owls, moon, branches, leaves, wine. It paints the picture of the speaker sitting home alone at night. Opening with the possessive language of the narcissist and psycho killer effectively gives us a more aggressive image for comparison. I had to re-read the owl stanza a few times. Lovely imagery, but it had me stumped. I settled on the speaker comparing themselves to the moon, as it is a constant observer of the conversation between the owls, but ultimately a piece of scenery that cannot participate in what it sees. It evokes a sense of isolation and otherness, hearing owls outside your window but not knowing what they're saying.
In the final stanza, it is revealed that the speaker *does* feel anger, aggression, and maybe even resentment. But they direct it at their wall instead of the person they love. That's what separates them from the people mentioned in the first stanza - they love without entitlement. The bits of broken glass as little stars is unique and memorable. The speaker wishing upon them reiterates that they are still yearning despite their resignation.
I love the title, but I can interpret it two different ways. Are the psycho killers and narcissists paparazzi, chasing after someone and trying to capture them before anyone else does? Or is the speaker the paparazzi, stuck in the position of observer when they'd rather be a participant? I resonate more with the second read, because unrequited love often feels like being a photographer (or so I've heard. I myself have certainly never been in such a pathetic position...) You're unable to touch or connect with the object of your affection, thus settling for the role of cameraman, admiring the view while having the decency to stay out of the frame.
In the final stanza, it is revealed that the speaker *does* feel anger, aggression, and maybe even resentment. But they direct it at their wall instead of the person they love. That's what separates them from the people mentioned in the first stanza - they love without entitlement. The bits of broken glass as little stars is unique and memorable. The speaker wishing upon them reiterates that they are still yearning despite their resignation.
I love the title, but I can interpret it two different ways. Are the psycho killers and narcissists paparazzi, chasing after someone and trying to capture them before anyone else does? Or is the speaker the paparazzi, stuck in the position of observer when they'd rather be a participant? I resonate more with the second read, because unrequited love often feels like being a photographer (or so I've heard. I myself have certainly never been in such a pathetic position...) You're unable to touch or connect with the object of your affection, thus settling for the role of cameraman, admiring the view while having the decency to stay out of the frame.