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An unfading melody fills my life
with a beauty
that covers my scars with ink
of a rhyme's desire
I can’t dismiss.  
And  I remember,
some things, move smooth as silk
like  laughter filled words
of a lover’s kiss.

The ink
which is burned upon my name
sleeps with my every hope
searching only…….
for happiness.  
It looks at me with an expectant face
in those moments
when my mind can’t rest.

The slightest touch of this  melody
leaves me waiting to shine  
with outstretched hands.  
My heart overflows with the beauty
of a thousand lights
changing color
at my command.

I can feel
the ink of my soul
on each and every breath
this melody breathes.  
While the ink burned upon my name
finds the happiness
it needs.
Copyright @2013 Neva Flores-Changefulstorm

Waiting to lift a rock
Under which I have left a Viper

Venom nonfatal
But abscesses and grows
Cultivates already infected,
                                                      decaying tissue

Weight my temple
Drop from a tower
Only the ground below and
On all sides

Dread, pass me by
Deaf, blind viper

Is this paranoia
No, I tremble legitimately
June 16, 2010
She says ***** like it's a bad thing.
But I smile and give her a small look.
It feeds my ego.
My words feel like poison in her veins
and I honestly don't give a flying **** what she thinks of me.

So I walk away.
Swaying my hips just a tad.
 Feb 2013 Marisa Wallace
Tom Orr
 Feb 2013 Marisa Wallace
Tom Orr
you say i trust to equal those in the past
whom have brought only pain and hatred
upon those in their wake?
well it's time to take a look in the mirror
my friend, no, wait, don't do that,
i wouldn't want to inflate your ego
it would come as no surprise to me if in that
mirror you would only see the eighth wonder
of the world, ever wondered if you could see
the world? i take that back, there is no sense
in snapping and losing my temper,
but all i'm doing is back tracking and
finding my self exempt of the respect that i
deserve, only you can serve to notice
the pain that you have harboured
upon the empty hearts of which now yearn
for that ever self-loving and i can only leave
you with this advice

turn around and back off
that ain't love it's idolatry.
"Where are your gloves?"
A man with watery blue eyes,
And steaming black coffee asks me.
I almost cannot hear him over the brutal wind,
The city taken by storm.

He leans closer and whispers,
"They are giving some away,
Under the bridge."
As if I know exactly which bridge he is speaking of.

He continues past me on the street.
But fortunate in his kindness.
Copyright Marie Hess 2006
She walked past
And I saw with a flash
Quick as fast cash
She was...
An accident waiting to happen
To me.

A story I never wanted to write
A road not to travel
A painting that should
never be
never started,
never seen
But I saw it

In the distance
I saw it in the wet ink and red paint
And road signs pointing
On slick roads that lead to bent metal
And I knew with conviction
Every gut nerve and fiber
From the center of me
Out and up i saw it
That if I fell in love with her
It would be a terrible train wreck
An intense and awesome beautiful thing
Raging and roaring, and happy as hell
Fire and flames and kindness and pain
And passion that burns as cold as the rain

But I held fast
Like a ship in a storm
Like a saint with the sinners
Like a soldier at war
I was hit in the face
By blue eyes and white lace
And red lips that sweet taste
Her hot scent was hot mace

But i didn't care
And I didn't cave
I didn't flinch
I didn't run
I held fast
And I breathed with a sigh
As she passed me by
And  im not sure why,

But I think it's for the best
 Feb 2013 Marisa Wallace
Not a place, in anyone's heart.
I'm an introverted man.
So no friendships to start.

My smile is heavy.
I'm a lonely man,
My mood is steady.

I'm a melancholy man.

It's how I was raised.
Less than a man.
My spirit, locked in a daze.

I'm not trying to be a snood,
So don't be offended.
I'm not intentionally rude.

I'm a melancholy man.

My trust isn't easily extended.
Your kindness will be my friend.
There's love & kindness within these mended fences.

A melancholy man, I am.
 Feb 2013 Marisa Wallace
Every song rings with them, their bittersweet echoes seep into the melodies
Every photo bring us back to a time we yearn for
Every day marks the beginning of another love, another loss, another memory
We are polluted with memories
We create memories every day
And each new one never really leaves
It simply manifests itself in a different facet of our lives
Be it a place,
A song,
A shirt,
A person,
The possibilities and triggers are endless
Living with them will bring everything from tears to joy
We may be poisoned by them
Or we may be lifted by them
But they are there, whether we like it or not
And just like the coffee stain on my desk
My memories will never leave me

— The End —