my writing blog

Words of an English student studying at the University of North Texas.

[worksbymel]

Apologists

Little By Little They are so brittle Why am I now alone? Trickle Trickle Trickle Go the fickle Would I had told them if I had known? -MP 01/20/2017

[worksbymel]

You waste my time, by not wasting it enough

Seeds grow to weeds. Trees sprout sour plums. But I can feel no wind upon my chilly toes.

The burning is gone, arose. the fire that

How many times to I have to count, as the seeds still grow?

-MP | 07/15/2016

[worksbymel]

Junkyard of Lost Faith

The curled up posters

and ripped doodles

scatter

the wall 

with memories of a past life

and past holy love for the divine

and the unseen–

now ripped and curled 

from his mind

-and not forgotten

as it should.

The bright light

in the view

of his once astigmatism influenced eyes

now dark

with the harsh light

of reality

in a world 

only of what is

and the shades of what was.

The Great Comparison–

what once was

and now is gone

 haunts

the disbeliever

with a shroud

of a bleak honesty

that churns the cement mixer

full of crosses carved of lava rock

and dried cement

– breaking it

so it can no longer mix

anymore

as the boy can no longer breathe anymore

because it is gone

and hauled off

to the junkyard

of lost faith.

-MP 04/16/2016

[worksbymel]

There is not enough time within a day To say what I need to say To see the lines I don’t cross To deal with this crucial loss.

There is not enough time to say the words To make sure that I am heard To fight the fight and fight the strife To live within my mortal life. -MP 03/24/2016

[somature-blog]

Our shadows dance in the light of what is real as your cheeks blush with the unseen thoughts that call through the void. You reach for me, and I reach back, our silloetes intertwining until dusk.

MP 02/06/16 (via somature)

[worksbymel]

Attached

Twine, twine, twine Your dainty ropes Lure my head Close with their subtle lack.

Silk ribbon red With passion lay against My soft stomach Smooth against the Narrow light.

Barbed wire Coils against my legs With spikes drawing red Force me open And leave me closed.

Unseen heavy whispers Of lurking looks Gloomily attached To my dragging feet.

-MP 01/26/2015

[worksbymel]

You say I made a joke out of you but you were the one to play me the fool. The fool thought more of what was than what it became. I cried over you, and mourned you, yet you claim that role. I wanted more than you had to give. You claim never to touch me but ask for one last time (There is hypocrisy in your rhyme.)

MP 01/03/2016

[worksbymel]

Soak your hands in my love one last time. Soak me up till I am dry. Then, once again leave me (like you did before) dry and used. And leave me to mourn once more.

MP 01/03/2016

[worksbymel]

We

I wonder if you

are proud of me

when you 

see the things I

write and read the things I

have to say. But, you 

probably think only of the hurt I

have caused you

and the idea of what we

once were.

Though you

have no more reason to be proud of me,

because where there was once we

there is simply you

and me.

-MP 11/25/2015

[worksbymel]

Magic in the Dark

Those lights are rays of magic in the dark that guide me home to your comfort and warmth. But, I would not like to go from this beauty in the night. I am seduced by the world and it’s majesty. Please don’t take me away from this magic in the dark. -MP

[worksbymel]

My Dear

Don’t say that I don’t miss you. Because, dear, that simply isn’t true.

I keep my doodles of your beautiful face, and still look over a program from your band concert. I cherish the bouquet of flowers you drew because of my allergies, and blush at the pictures from prom. I still analyze that letter you sent me when you were away at camp, and engulf myself in the poems you wrote.

I have all these things and more kept (neatly) in a folder here with me at college. Because, my dear, what I couldn’t bring with me is you.

[worksbymel]

No Means Try Harder

He starts kissing my neck,

but I just want to sleep.

His mouth moves to mine,

and I lazily comply.

His hands are roaming my body,

but I just want to sleep.

His hands move to my underwear,

and I tell him no.

He does everything in his power to change my mind,

but I just want to sleep.

He makes it known that he’s not giving up,

and I grudgingly let him in.

And suddenly I can’t sleep,

but I just want to sleep.

-MP 11/06/2015  

[worksbymel]

My heart pounds to the rhythm of your skateboard hitting the seams of the sidewalk.

The butterflies in my stomach flutter to the strums of your guitar.

My knees shake to the purr of your engine as it drives away into the night.

-MP 11/10/2015

[worksbymel]

A hand pressed down on my chest as I lay. With each breath, the hand pushes down harder. I gasp for breath as I sink into the earth.

MP 11/09/2015

[worksbymel]

Butterflies

I adored him. I did not love him. Love is not simply butterflies you feel in your stomach or giddiness you feel in your muscles. Love is a deep seeded fullness you feel in your heart. Love is a feeling that is not specifically good nor bad, but a feeling that just is. -MP 10/09/2015

[worksbymel]

Pink cotton candy wades through denim skies as crystals fall from beating drums.

MP 10/23/2015

[worksbymel]

She sips her mocha as she tries to focus

on her math homework instead of her pounding heart.

The coffee reminds her of his scent and

she switches to water to clear him of her pallet.

The music plays through the coffee shop and

it is his favorite song. His voice floods

her as she plugs her ears and finally

puts in her earbuds to drown out the noise.

Suddenly she realizes that the walls

are the color his shirt was that day and

he is engulfing her and surrounding

her. And there is no longer her, but only him.

And she can no longer move or breathe, but

to move for him or breathe for him, and he is always

there. So she folds her laptop and grabs her jacket

and opens the door to the coffee shop, and leaves.

-MP 11/07/2015