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.

How would you describe to your child
the difference of papers and pages
That one is used for numbers
and one is for letters

Give her a book instead

Let her open these pages, these papers
Let her discover that they are similar
and different in both ways

You use the other one for your eyes
and the other one for your hands

Let her feel every page
Let her see every paper
But let her see every page
and feel every paper

Let her wonder with curiosity
that she'd like to get more books
just to know their similarities and differences
Let these be her defenses
from boys who walk up to her

Let her know there are similarities and differences
to a boy and a man

That you use one for your eyes
and one for your hands
how you look for a boy
and touch a man
How you get swerved by his looks
and how you get moved by his actions
How one uses you for his own eyes
just to look at everyday
for display
for everybody to see that he got this kind of girl
with the sun in her eyes and moon in her mouth

And how one not uses you
but walks with you
and treats you like you're no ordinary girl
cause you're a woman
with flowers in her hair that grow overnight
and roads on her feet that take you everywhere

Remember these things

And let her feel every man
and see every boy
but let her see every man
and feel every boy

Remember all these things
there are similarities and differences

How one gives you numbers
to spend on material things
but never makes you happy

And how one gives you letters
combined to form words
He'll give them out to you
handed out with gift wrap on it

And how these numbers
provide needs for your body
and how these letters
give out needs for your soul

Remember these things

Like how I'm writing this out
with pages and papers
but this wouldn't have been done
without the pen above
and hands that wrote
these numbers of letters

So, honey
you may not need pages or papers
but you'll need a tongue and a soul
to speak this out to your child
who's still confused of how
pages and papers
come with similarities and differences
and soon she'll grow up
and know that even you, yourself
don't know how it came to be like this

So, you'll pick up a book
you'll feel its pages and papers
you'll see its papers and pages

with a pen in your hand

You want to breathe my shadow?
You want to feel my rage?
You want to see me howl and roar like phantom wolves inside a cage?


They throw my body in cell,
I bare my teeth and grin.
They leave me where I tripped and fell but I remember
every
sin...
My eyes,
they stare,
my face is calm...
But creatures stir inside my veins...

If I let go of all control,
the fire of hell would swallow me whole.

What's this...?

But you my dear...
you wish to see,
the darkest parts I hide in me...
I find it strange,
I can't explain,
you choose to never turn and run.
You touch my lips and gently kiss
what burns like violence from the sun...

Well if you insist...

Show me your anger. Show me your rage.
Open my body,
page by page...
Give me wounds inside this cage.

Roar with my fear,
moan in my ear,
scream with me,
perhaps we'll see...
why your demons play so well with me...

I have written about you on napkins in coffee shops and restaurants that traverse continents.  I've written your name on foreign pages in cities you'll never be, at least not with me. I've etched your name onto trees but your initials always feel out of place alongside my own, or at least that's how it seems. You have always traded a taste of ink for words you'll never let me read. You're darkened melancholy that you think tastes too sweet. You had me, oh you had me and I've written down the verse. But the tape is skipping, the record is broken, a melody and a curse

Going through our chapters
feeling those hidden pictures behind,
Keeping count on my tear drops
from your first breath, till my     heart stops

My book has empty pages
that only you can write.
I'll turn them, leave them blank.
I'm giving up the fight.
I could search forever
and wonder what they'd say.
But time will leave them empty-
words gone, just as those days.
Still my heart will wonder
if I m in your book?
Did I leave some pages empty?
Do you ever take a look?
The story is unfinished,
it's trapped in times before.
But words I cannot read
will echo evermore.