is love a pat on the back;
                                                   a handshake exchanged?
                                                   is love a smile unseen;
                                                   a song to ease the pain?

                                                   is love meant to last on and on;
                                                   is it there to be true?
                                                   is it meant to stay strong;
                                                   is it for the soul who's blue?

                                                   is love so sincere as "i love you;"
                                                   is it as informal as "see you soon?"
                                                   is it misused or confused;
                                                   has it been very terribly abused?

                                                   if love has more than once abandoned you,
                                                   if love has more than one time rescued you,
                                                   if the one who said his love was true,
                                                   has not for long remembered you.

                                                   love is too casually thrown around;
                                                   and love is sometimes better left unfound.
                                                   the thing about love is that it's meant to last,                                                            ­                                                                 ­               
                                                   but so many times love loves too fast.
                                                   -mc//

© Melissa Carlson 2015

You won't remember the color of the tablecloths,
or the design on the plates.

You'll remember the gleam in his eyes,
and the way 'I do' tasted on your lips.

I'm not sure who or what I'm supposed to become.
Some believe they have it all made.
Others already succumb
to the pressures of life.

Too many people are concerned with vanity.
I've searched great distances to find who I am.
The fiery passion of wanderlust drives me to the peak of insanity,
could this all be a scam?

Where does it all stop?
Will it ever?
Am I made to just stand in the backdrop?
Or shall I go on living forever.

Deletionsssss

Her perfume smelled of cheap Musk,
      tobacco and passion flowers,
the scent of betrayal lingered
         long after she had retreated

•

You are a really good fisherman,



And I am just but a foolish fish,




                                                       ­                      Preposterously bitten your hook,
                                                    With your bait of feigned love attached to it,
  



                                   Piercing it all the way to my heart,


                  Leaving me wounded with all of those prevaricates I've fell for,


But I don't know why,

                            I still love the feeling,

                                         That you've been jumping in gladness,

                                             That you've finally caught me,



Even though I was hardly breathing,

               'Cause you've taken  me away from the place,

                                  That makes me breathe and gives me joy.


                                 It somehow gives me relief,

                 Seeing the auspicious sun,

Brightly gleaming into my beautiful scales,

Not knowing it was just a start of a baleful Gehenna!




                    I should've known all along that it's just an entice!




                              But I am still blessed,


           'Cause I have manage to escape,

                                While damaging and harming myself in the process,


From the jailhouse that you've locked me in.




                                                      ­From then on,


              You've learned a lesson,


  

And use NET instead.



                       © Earl Jane
                         ♥ E.J.C.S.