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Men leave me in silence
Hiding their love
Hiding their pain

Not a word is uttered
As they walk out through my door
A glance, not meant to be seen
I have seen before.
Loving me is an unending quest none have yet managed, myself included.
“Mummy I’m sick” said the girl pale white
The mum turned around in an awful fright
exclaimed, “What’s wrong? How do you feel?’
She replied with an honesty “I never feel real”.

The mother just sighed, went back to her book.
The little girl shocked didn’t know where to look
and went back to bed, in her nothingness room
Whilst her mother ignored her nothingness gloom

The next year the girl aged, just turned thirteen,
she called out to her mum who couldn’t be seen.
And shouted down stairs “mum something is wrong”
with the mothers reply “what the hell’s going on”

So the girl with the pause says “Mum I feel sad”,
Then the mum goes on about all the girl has
and how lucky she is, and no fuss should be made
Just think happy thoughts, it will all go away.

To which the teenage girl said “you’re right” with a breath,
and goes to her room, feels like turning to death,
but switches off her light and lays in her gloom,
her room filled with nothing, fit for a tomb.

Now just turned sixteen, her heart had just broke,
a boy that she loved continued to joke
about all the things, she hated the most
her weight, her smile, she felt like a ghost

And after a week, she spoke to her mum,
about feeling so fat and feeling so numb.
Unfortunately for her, the cliche applied,
about how all teens feel this, trying to clarify
to her girl that the “fact” is it isn’t real
stop saying you’re sick, illness isn’t how you feel



This time she said nothing and went to her room
stopped talking to the boy who filled her with fumes
the thoughts of hatred and self deprecation
she knew it was time for her mum’s “education”
to see that her sickness long wasn’t all in her head
it was something deep down that started to spread

And weeks went by with planning and thought,
to show how her feelings and illness was fought,
she searched through the house for a constructive fight,
to clearly scream out what she knew was right
“Mum, I need help I don’t want to die”
but this was too late to say, the time was nigh

and finally the next day she calls for her mum
screaming “mum I’m hurt please just come”
with a relentless sigh, she walks up the stairs
to her little girls room, destroying her prayers
that her daughter was better, she wasn’t still sad
and the realisation of what she said was bad

her little girl kneeling, white and pale,
with blood on her hands, began to wail
in physical pain with emotional struggle
the mum had realised, her girl was in trouble
and picked her up and took her away
to a place where people like her could go stay.

And finally after years of trouble and fraught,
this girl knew she was allowed to be distraught…
why do i always fall for the
pretty boys
pretty boys
who always treat me like
little toys
little toys
why can't i fall for the
good guys
good guys
who can actually see the sadness
in my eyes
in my eyes
this kind of a song, hope you enjoy it. <3
rainy days
sleepy gaze
romantic films
on the couch we lay.
never stopping
to consider the storm
raging outside
our bright red door.
I'm sorry I grew up.
I guess they never understood.
I swear this is the last thing I'll write to you:
You were my first love, the best "first love"
I could have ever been given. For that, I thank you.
I swear this is the last time I'll write your name;
but I've actually never written your name, not in poetry anyways,
so instead,
I will never speak your name again.
I say this every morning
and every night I count the times I messed up.
This is getting long, but I swear I will never check my snapchat to see if you've seen my siblings on my story.
Or my instagram, to see if you saw that pretty dress I wore one day.
Okay, one last thing - I swear I don't really
care but please don't throw away that picture of me. Keep it around.  And that letter I gave you on your birthday -
Keep it. Put it away.
Don't throw away that picture of me; it's my favorite.
10.23.15
 Jan 2016 Melissa Joy Carlson
KM
I want to go to coffee shops with you
See the world from your point of view
Watch the ocean waves break and crash
Run through the rain as the thunder cracks
I want to sing with you in the morning light
Hear you whisper between us in the night
Stand atop a mountain and take in the view
I want to go to coffee shops with you
1/31/2014
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