if you run away
where are you going
and once you get there
how will you get back

are you running to feel free and alive
and will you run back into comforting arms

or are you running from fears, tears, trials or tribulations
and will you have to slowly force yourself to return

to think that running is something good or something bad
something beautiful or something tragic

if you run away
where are you going
and once you get there
how will you get back

Knowing that you read my words,
My own words....
Consider my thoughts
Within time's moving context,
That you catch a glimpse of me,
From time to time,
Within the context of time.

The thought that you
Know me in some ways
Weighs heavy on me now.

Have you read enough to see me
Laughing or troubled,
Calm or aflame?

Have you glimpsed the coattails
Of Sunday, running
On ahead?

Have you seen me following
Hard after?

Can you see that I run on,
Convinced that
Though today is Friday,
Sunday must be coming?

We may have a past,
But "stop" means just that.

I shouldn't have to pull your hands away.
Don't you dare ask me if we're okay.

You may have a hard exterior,
But my body is not inferior.

I am a push-over...
But a four-leaf clover.

And I will not stand
For disobedient hands.

Dry and cracking
My wounds scabbing
Over; displaying healing as an option

Yet it's easy
To start peeling
Away; touching the tender skin underneath

You, tender wound
Irritate mood
Your mind temperamental in every wrong way

Tending gashes
Quiet passions
Letting sensitive skin heal over anew

if tonight's your last
and yesterday's past
intimidates you or
relentlessly accuses you
of the things that
once enchanted you
and you take a slap in the face
you cut to the chase
there's no time to waste
but really you're stuck
you feel out of place
and the rhythm of the sorrow
drags into tomorrow
because you cannot forget
and there is abundant regret
draining from the scars
that you've tried to hide
that you've put aside
and in reality, your soul
IS TIRED
of waiting, of praying
of feeling like it's straying
you breathe, you sleep,
you live as if you
were not dying
you're still trying
TO BE OK
but you are broken and
you cannot cope
and all of your hope
has gone up in smoke
to where has your spirit flown?
LET GO
for the love of God, release
give it to the One you seek
to Him whom your eyes have not seen
in this moment, you are
FREED.

© Melissa Carlson 2015

I rest my head.
No zombies march
Toward my bed,
And when I sleep,
Sleep like the dead:
No cause for fear
Nor dread.

At morning's light
I rise to pray,
Prepare my way
At dawning day,
Content to work
Another day.

Imagined terrors
Cannot climb
This life of mine,
For I am Thine,
And when my errors
You divine,
Forgive and cleanse me
For all time.

A perfect man,
I'll never be,
But I have put
My total trust,
O Lord,
In Thee.

There is a voicemail
Saved on my cellphone

Sixteen seconds
Of what used to be

I reach for your voice
When I cannot sleep

I press repeat, repeat, repeat
Reliving brief moments

A part of me thinks
You've saved my voice

That you reach for me
Like your arms did previously

But in your eyes, there is no one lovelier than she
Two bodies intertwine beneath your sheets

You're making memories
While I'm reliving

Moments of when you loved me

This day, almost two decades ago
I was pulled from my mother's belly
Prematurely

My lungs were not fully developed
Yet, I still came out kicking
Living

Today is usually a day
That I take in stride
Pride

But the only person
I want to celebrate with
Reminisce

Has left our love to die
He has thrown us away
Unhappy birthday

new ways
new place
hallways
unsure where
unfair
they care
mystery
or misery
new life to be

carry on from the beginning
we are the alive poets society
words said by another  
all we believe in is each other

secretive language all our own
passionate words among loving tales
writing words, raptureously flowing
others left completely unknowing

O captain, my captain
guide us in the ways of words
careful now, do not reveal
for they are our only seal

our pens speak like our tongues
writing what we wish we could say
undercover we stay, quietly
we are the alive poets society