This piece evokes a lot of "feels," which is what poetry is intended to do.
So much of the imagery resonates on a personal level: Memories forever linked with shared music and of love turning to antipathy because one person failed to live up to the other person's carefully crafted fantasy.
I'm not primarily a poet. I haven't written anything even remotely poetic in a quarter of a century, so I'm hardly qualified to judge the mechanics of someone else's poetry. In that sense, is anyone really qualified to judge another's work just because their soul doesn't bleed the same way as one's own? It would be like receiving a love letter only to return it with spelling, punctuation, and grammar corrected in red pencil with the admonition "Try again."
My only purely nit-picky editorial comment is in reference to the title, Echo's of Us. I believe you want the plural of the word "echo" which would be "echoes" instead of "echo's". The apostrophe denotes either possession, such as something belonging to someone named Echo, or an informal contraction of Echo is/was, such as Echo's (Echo is) going to the store with us.
To be honest, though, it was the minor grammatical error in the title the led me to read your poem in the first place. Once I read it, however, I was both touched and moved. Good job.
That was wonderful! I clicked on this story because of the cover. The Fall of the House of Usher was one of my favorite Vincent Price movies. Reading this story took me back to my childhood and the hours spent at the Corral Drive-In on Jacksboro Highway - now an Albertson's grocery store. No station wagon, ours was a 1960 Buick LeSabre, and we had a special parking spot right outside the snack bar. My mother took me to see every gothic horror flick they screened. Vincent Price, Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, et al, were old friends. We saw The Screaming Scull, Dr. Terror's House of Horror, The Raven, and a host of others. And yes, while we were watching The House of Usher, during the dream sequence where all the Usher portraits come to life, I was engrossed in the film, and my dear, devoted mother reached over and grabbed my knee. She had to peel me off the roof of the car.
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