she was so unaware
i couldn't help but stare
she was lost
she was emerged
in the world
within those pages

my gaze unintentionally fixated
on the girl
with green speckled eyes
and the loveliest lips i've ever seen

her fingers
so delicate
turning the page
quietly, gently
as if not to hurt
nor disrespect
the yellowing pages
and the tiny print

the range of emotions
so clearly displayed
through her expressions
as she read through
i was entertained
by the little smirk
which turned into
furrowed brows
then sorrowful sighs
as the story went on

she went through the emotions
and took me along with her

everyday since then
at 12:04pm
i look for the girl
in the library
hoping to catch a glimpse
of my
*literary fantasy

Talk to me about history
The lawless and the just
Years that remained a mystery
Exposed by hate, power and lust

Show me all the written stories
Those full of dust, yet still true
The words of generations
That withered as they grew

I found them as I found myself
In pages much older than I
They put time upon a shelf
and left the wisdom there to die

Talk to me about history
The rise and fall of man
Life remains a mystery
That we still struggle to understand

You inspire me to keep writing.
You inspire me to continue fighting for what "I" belive in.
You make me want to prove you wrong.
To show you I'm so much more than a torn page in a book.
To show you everything I do doesn't come from a dark place.
What I listen to, what I write & what I say. You belive it comes from an evil place.

Why?

Song: James Arthur X
By: Long Live The King

I am words written on blank paper,
The words are there but no-one can see them until they are spoken.
The girl in the back of the classroom, unnoticed
Until she can open her mouth wide enough to sing with the chorus.

I am the one they call afraid
When Destiny knocks at my door
I can't find the words to even begin to say
I'm just not yet ready
But once I am, my God, I'm unstopable.

Isn’t it amusing
How a blank page
Holds endless stories
Within its being
The unending possibilities
Widows and orphans
Prose and poetry
Hidden underneath
A blanket of colors
Waiting till someone
Draws one out
And gives it life
As the rest venture
Into new homes
Waiting beneath the surface
To be born
So they can breathe life
Into another being

All the blank pages
With untold words
Dancing beneath the horizon

It beats with the sound of whispering pages,
scrawling pens through passing ages.
With blood of ink that curls and flows,
in words or in symbols that nobody knows.
My paper heart that beats apart word by word in me.

Each beat is a chapter, each word so true,
Once Upon a Time It beat just for you.
It beats out now stories in it's leather case,
a soft, hard cage to keep the pages safe.
A paper heart that bleeds apart, not for eyes to see.

The ink is pain, the ink is love,
the ink is life, the ink is blood.
Hear my words, feel the ink,
judge my words. What do  you think
My paper hart that falls apart, so may it set me free.

Ink for blood, a paper soul,
a leather case, beats to a goal.
To let me live, every day
I need my heart, so leave it this way.

My paper heart right from the start
it's who I am, beats so I can
stay alive, and maybe thrive.

It beats, it bleeds, it falls apart.
My
Perfect
Patchwork
Paper
Heart.

Every morning my day starts
With nothing on my page
But, the book I write as time goes on
Is thicker as I age

Everyday I learn some more
And I fill the page with ink
With things that have me questioning
Just the way I think

Empty pages surrounded me
When I was just a youth
But, if I sit and read them now
I find more of the truth

I didn't know a thing back then
In fact I know less than before
So, I fill the pages with my questions
That's what the book is for

Things I loved no longer here
People who've moved on
Times of truly reckoning
Those times have come and gone

Tomorrow is another day
I guess I'll write some more
I'll fill the empty pages
For that's just what they're for

If I was to write a poem
On the story of my life
Words would fill those pages
As the stars steal the sky.*

© Melissa Carlson 2015

I tried to stop it once, but I failed.
I tried to dry them once, but I failed.
Because of you, I greatly failed.
And no worse a failure can be than I.

I have failed to stop my pen from
       continually bleeding your name.
*And I failed to dry these pages,
       soaked in thoughts of you.