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 Sep 2022 Melisa
jude rigor
menthol
 Sep 2022 Melisa
jude rigor
i let mint fester
in the front of my mouth as
a sleeping
beauty,
while hunger slips in t
                                    -he back of my
throat and i try to forget
            her
 Dec 2017 Melisa
jude rigor
summer quietly creaks open the back door
slips from beneath your skin records shattering
as you stare down from the attic, questioning
everything. it's gone before you can remember
what warmth even is
sadness warps
an old yellow novel you used to love
holding it close as it twists and moans
rip the best chapter out because
it belongs to you
a bunch of feels in my heart u feel me
 Dec 2017 Melisa
jude rigor
since i started
sleeping in hidden hemisphere
it only snows when i'm
sad. it's cold every day and
my fingers shake even though
winter doesn't exist here. you
left the blizzard for a smoke
and i didn't realize that meant
you were leaving for good
draw hearts in the snow
with my feet, no angels
i don't want to fall asleep
out here: i don't want to fall
asleep without you
but here i am
with my own
cigarette
i draw hearts
in the air with
smoke
the snow freezes
once i'm home
i lost my glasses but
think the snow hasn't
swept away my love
yet. the street light
breathes ambient
gasps of electricity
i wish i could see
more clearly
it's still so cold
i lost my winter clothes
leaving socks in the snow
i'll walk until i nod off
there's no one else here
i'll sleep forever in the drift
if u get this i will be shook
 Dec 2017 Melisa
derelictmemory
I was once asked to write a story about the intricacies of my world and my first response was to say that it's a type of cognitive dissonance. It is a crashing of two worlds - fantasy and reality - within the cacophony inside of me. It was looking right and seeing what was left; lifting my eyes to the sky to have it pour it sorrows onto me.

I told them that it was division. Wanting and needing against the best chance they could have. It was desire and survival; a mess of paint on cracked dry wall. It was the phantom touch of the last time you held me and it was the ghost of a smile in the pictures of us.

My world was one tune after another. Each varying in tone, touch and speed; a racing heart, a slow breath and a deafening scream. Inspiration clouded by the doubt of a self-deprecating voice in my head. Cancellation after cancellation under the dim lights to the sight of the midnight moon.

A soft lull in the background that reaches and coaxes and comforts.
You'll be okay, I promise. You'll be okay.
An unheard sigh that never escapes the lungs, softly shutting eyes and a crease in your forehead. Discordant notes in a piano.
No, please don't. Yes, you need to.
And there was nothing like spending hours staring at the vast ocean, releasing myself of it all.
Taking in the sins of others and breathing them out as my own.

Someone once asked me to tell them about my world and all I could see in my mind was the soft brown eyes of a soul in pain.
 Mar 2016 Melisa
Langston Hughes
Democracy will not come
Today, this year
   Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right
As the other fellow has
  To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.

      Freedom
      Is a strong seed
      Planted
      In a great need.

      I live here, too.
      I want freedom
      Just as you.
 Jan 2016 Melisa
Ugo
floating lights 
and dark skies
sit on the phantom
heir as chair

a soft touch
a ripple 
in the deep
blue sea

paper chairs 
and crosses
float 
beneath 
the skies
as sheet

(the eye wake
gaze
at merry old
stars;
the ***** wonder )

we are weak
when we 
are poor
and meek
when we 
admit the tongue
did defeat

an old pair
of glasses
as glory

we all
 wither
                  all mouths
meet winter
i hope
to 
see
wall
grow flowers

before 
a machine
gives
birth.
 Jan 2016 Melisa
Ugo
Rubicon on broadway 
young and beautiful 
in white Cadillacs and Buicks
audio pop gods transmit 
preludes for the night 
through hair waves 
and satellite finger tips

Buried souls are only resurrected
among friends
at Shakespearian rags
at 10
in mind
with wine, no whine 
oh mine, oh mine 
no more golden toads in Costa Rica—
the planet is a metaphor for the body—

old spice and white gum

our everyday gospel
 Dec 2015 Melisa
Bo Burnham
Mmmmmm
 Dec 2015 Melisa
Bo Burnham
I like that thing you do with your tongue.
What do you call it?
Speaking?
Yeah, I dig it.
 Dec 2015 Melisa
Bo Burnham
Her Eyes
 Dec 2015 Melisa
Bo Burnham
Her eyes were like fire.
They weren't red or anything.
Not particularly warm, either.
They didn't glow or "appear to glow,"
whatever that means.

But they had that same strange blend of
familiar and miraculous---
and they were always nice to look at
after a long day of doing things.
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