Before the first line, the title has already lost its composure. «Oh God, Oh God ohgodohgodohgod» begins with two separate cries, then collapses into one unspaced rush, like words tumbling out when there is no breath left to divide them. The tag (20.7.13) looks like a date. If it is one, it gives the poem the feel of a diary entry written on one particular night, though that is an inference from the title alone. What follows is far calmer than the title promises, and the gap between the panic outside and the careful voice inside is where much of the poem's feeling lives.
The subject is missing someone, and the speaker is baffled by how much. "Tonight" appears at the start, again in the second stanza, and once more as the poem turns ("So tonight, / I'll write a love song"), so the grief feels pinned to a single evening. The second stanza is knotty. The speaker says they "should rejoice / in the love I thought I lost" but instead "wallow in the sorrow / of the love that is gone forever." The poem never explains what the reason for rejoicing is, so I can only infer that the speaker believes they ought to feel better and cannot. The blunt verb "wallow" is self-criticism, as if the speaker is embarrassed by their own sadness.
The middle of the poem is its most physical stretch. "I miss you / as you are, / a person, / a lover" insists on a real human being rather than a memory. The present tense is telling, because the beloved still exists, just not within reach. The catalogue that follows, "your taste," "the feel of your body," "your hand," is built on the repeated "I miss," and it shrinks from the whole body to a single hand. "Perfect" appears twice, once for the way the body "fit perfectly / at my side" and once for the hand, which "was / a perfect match." Isolating that last stanza on its own, with the small past-tense "was," makes the loss feel final. Even the kiss is described with a slightly violent verb: lips "crushed beneath mine."
Then the poem changes mode. The speaker will write "a love song," and the I/you of the first half gives way to "the girl" and "the boy." This looks like a thinly veiled retelling of the speaker's own relationship, told at a distance because the direct version hurts too much. The language is deliberately fairy-tale: a smile "brighter than the sun," eyes "deeper than the ocean." These are stock comparisons, but the next phrase undercuts them: eyes "sadder than an old man's." Suddenly the girl is young and ancient at once. The boy "fought for their love," which suggests the relationship was a struggle and not a gentle idyll.
The ending is the poem's real argument. "They both died" is not literal. The next words explain that "neither was the same / person that they / were before." The old selves are what die, and the love dies with them. The final sentence gives no villain and no betrayal, only a failure of timing: "they changed / faster / than the other could follow." The word "faster" sits alone on its own line, so the reader feels the speed that left one person behind. Because both change and both lose, the blame never lands on anyone.
Formally, the poem is free verse with no rhyme and no steady metre. Its short, broken lines imitate a halting, half-whispered voice, and the line breaks leave small pauses in the middle of thoughts ("I miss you more than / anything?"). The lines lengthen in the song section, where the speaker gets more fluent, and the closing stanzas pile up with "And... And..." as though the speaker is working out the explanation while writing it. The occasional capital at the start of a line ("About the girl / With a smile") sits oddly beside the lowercase lines around it, and this adds to a rough, unrevised feeling.
The poem matters for its honesty about a kind of heartbreak that rarely gets a villain: grieving someone who is alive, who was loved, and with whom nothing went "wrong" except time. It also shows writing as a way of coping. When the pain is too raw to say as "I," the speaker turns it into a story with a beginning and an end, and that shapes the feeling enough to bear.