#1
I met a girl once; it was a while ago,
can’t for the life of me remember when exactly,
although I now know it’s a date only an historian would know.
The first time I saw her, she was huddled
beneath the flimsy confines of an umbrella
as it received a battering from a summer shower.
She looked up and peered through the rain towards me
and I peered back at her, and that was it.
A brief glance and I was on my way and she hers.

About two months later, I caught sight of her at a market,
buying oranges and mousetraps, which I thought quirky.
I stood and watched her for a few seconds,
and when she turned to look towards me,
I pretended to have been walking, completely unaware of her presence.
We began talking, then we began shopping,
then we began drinking, then we began exchanging.
She gave me her address and I gave her me.

The first time I went to her address, I knew something wasn’t right;
the house was derelict, and had been so for many years.
Immediately, I began running negatives in my head.
Maybe she just wrote the address down wrong.
I turned to walk home, but I glanced back just to make sure
the ruins didn’t suddenly turn into something habitable.
I saw her, in the window above the front door, crying,
waving to her, but it wasn’t a wave to get someone’s attention,
she was waving goodbye. I knew then what was going on,
and I knew I could never make this work, not when I was alone.

I met a girl once; it was a while ago,
can’t for the life of me remember her face now.
It melts with the rain when I look outside,
it merges seamlessly onto the patterns of my wall,
it breaks apart when it impressions itself upon my dreams.
The first time I saw her, she was huddled
beneath the flimsy confines of an umbrella
as it received a battering from a summer shower.
The last time I saw her, she was younger than before,
the ghost of disease, the echo of pain, the memory of forget
#2
I met a girl once; it was a while ago,
can’t for the life of me remember when exactly,
although I now know it’s a date only an historian would know.
The first time I saw her, she was huddled
beneath the flimsy confines of an umbrella
as it received a battering from a summer shower.
She looked up and peered through the rain towards me
and I peered back at her, and that was it.
A brief glance and I was on my way and she hers.
I actuall really like this first stanza

About two months later, I caught sight of her at a market,
buying oranges and mousetraps, which I thought quirky. This itself sounds quirky
I stood and watched her for a few seconds,
and when she turned to look towards me,
I pretended to have been walking, completely unaware of her presence.
We began talking, then we began shopping,
then we began drinking, then we began exchanging.
She gave me her address and I gave her me. Whether diliberately or not, I actually really like this where she gave you here adress and you gave her yourself, nice

The first time I went to her address, I knew something wasn’t right;
the house was derelict, and had been so for many years.
Immediately, I began running negatives in my head.
Maybe she just wrote the address down wrong.
I turned to walk home, but I glanced back just to make sure
the ruins didn’t suddenly turn into something habitable. After reading the following line, this sounds better
I saw her, in the window above the front door, crying,
waving to her, but it wasn’t a wave to get someone’s attention,
she was waving goodbye. I knew then what was going on,
and I knew I could never make this work, not when I was alone.

I met a girl once; it was a while ago,
can’t for the life of me remember her face now.
It melts with the rain when I look outside,
it merges seamlessly onto the patterns of my wall,
it breaks apart when it impressions itself upon my dreams.
The first time I saw her, she was huddled
beneath the flimsy confines of an umbrella
as it received a battering from a summer shower.
The last time I saw her, she was younger than before,
the ghost of disease, the echo of pain, the memory of forget

For a love story (or something along the same genre) this was actually really good. I could really feel what was going on and the imagry you used made me feel like I was there. Very good Keep on Writing
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I am the 24 Wild Rovers
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#3
try rearranging. "cant remember (when exactly/her face now) for the life of me" and maybe "it wasnt a wave to get (omitted) attention" and "it merges (omitted) with the patterns on my wall" also possibly trade "something habitable" for a mansion, or, even more grandiose and storylike, a palace (since ur describing imagination, make it grand.). nice job keep going. remember its ur baby. go with wat u feel. great first stanza, btw
-Your shadow of doubt.