The rain falling from a tree lands with a weight
It is comfort, the outside world reminding me it's real
There is more than the airless, dry aired, stuffy rooms of school
There is a whole world to explore.
If I ran into the middle of the moor, and closed my eyes
Breathless
The roar of traffic could almost be the sea
Northern, icy, blue-green-grey.
In my kind it tickles the priory on a stormy night.
I wonder what it would be like to be somewhere hot
Where warm, humid air and bright light was outside
And icy cold white expanse was in.
Those grey clouds are more than the grey tinge of copy paper.
The black of tarmac is more than board pen
The spiny trees are real, no words come from their branches
All are familiar, and yet outside provides comfort.
Inspiration.

Words ran constantly
Along these sheets of papers infront of me
As I shed tears for you dear
This will be the last poem, I promise

It may take me hours, months, or years
Till I put into words all the things that rhymed with your name
But this you should remember,
I dont care, for this is the last, I promise

Tonight, I wont write the saddest lines
Neither the happiest
This isnt for you to realize my worth
But to make you feel loved till I get hurt.

Sorry for I imprisoned you
In my web of words
Is it my fault?
You feel in love with a writer

Sorry for I got you shackled
In every hug I gave
Is it my fault?
I just want to keep you in my hold.

I saw museums in you,
You were a galaxy in me
A North Star, but why?
You treated me like a scratch.

Funny how I was there
In the moments you were just a bud
Now look at you,
A grown plant you became

You left me when you reach the edge
Stood in a tower
I was left on the ground
Still looking with hopes and happiness at you

My love, this I just wish.
Can you take care of yourself as I leave?
I didnt know I had been this weak.
Never got the chance to tell you Im this sick.

Words ran constantly
Along this papers soaked in tears
Did you know I bleed dry for you?
This will be the last, I promise dear.

**My ink has turned dry
My mind has been emptied
But my heart has kept you locked.
My love, I promise this is the last.
I'll be forever locked in my coffin soon.

I'm loosing blood
to this machine
it's ripping me apart
soon I'll be empty
It drains me dry
and I've lost my mind
It drains me dry
'til there's nothing inside

My tired eyes cry
My weary body lies
And why do my tears
Think they cannot dry?

Shaky hands and nervous throat
Exhausted heart, this stimulated soul
They ridiculously wait, day after day,
For a break from sorrow, a thing called hope.

How is it that I can live, but it is the hardest thing I ever did?

© Melissa Carlson 2016

who the hell are you?
how did you appear in my life,
and sweep me away with your inviting eyes
fed me pleasure and warmth
left me high and dry,
puzzled and craving more
of your attention and gaze
your laugh to be directed to me
maybe you could put your hands on my waist again
or around my neck
it feels brand new to me and i'm sorry,
that i almost back away each time
this is probably all my fault
i question if i'm the confusing one
or if he is
but i'd put money on him in a heartbeat

By Nabs

The well of words
Deep down in this breathing heart
Are drying and cracking before they reach,
This sinning fingertips.

These words
Taste dry, musty. Parching throats.
Crackled in the air
Louder than thunder and your screams.

As the spinning wheel
Stop.
Stopping forever.
Stop. Pricking blood from your vessel.

Embroideries, tapestries
weaved from the threads of life.
Unbound, unraveled
Marveled in the way they are being broken down.

Set fire to us,
And you'll see.
How prettily we all would burn
Inside this tomb, we called home.