the
crisp night
along
these peaceful shores
that live
between
the have
and
the
have nots
but
we want more
what
men fight
and
die for
bread
butter
or war

since you have left, i've been doing some sorrowing;
quite a lot of sorrowing, it seems.
morning sorrowing, evening sorrowing,
all in tune with the sound of the rain.
you brought me pain- even
when you were here, you did.
but it's such a shame
i can't have that old pain anymore,
this new pain being such a bore.

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

I am not yet who I am supposed to be.

I have a past; I have regrets.
And there are words that I'd love to take back.

Shame can take me places I wish not to be.
Those things that I have done come creeping back to me.

I feel like a child who's lost and alone. I never feel safe, I never feel at home.

My eyes are blind, can this be? I feel like a prisoner who won't be set free.

© Melissa Carlson 2015