melissaahowells

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Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

Here, After?

Only The Lonely.... (its not about what you may think...)

And The Next, And The Next..... (written directly to page, will return later for edits)

My Truth Is Out There (re-edited for clarity of thought and image later)



The Better Poem

Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)

The Last Shall be Trace-less 5/25/2021

Beware When The White Night Calls // re-edited 5/25/2020

BUYING LIES 5/22/2021

The Future I'm Caught Up In...RE-EDITED 5/22/2021

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

Broken Things Are Beautiful

Cool Pea-Green New Leaves....(Imaginarium)

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

It No Longer Surprises Me...

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

The Magical Closet( re-edited for clarity of metaphor)

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

The Legacy List

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

The Threshold To The Other World...(March 2021/Feb 2021)

(MELISSA'S) ALL---TRUE---ISMS....3/3/2021 4:51 pm PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

I Long For Stars

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

MOLECULES

No Broom Could Chase Me.

Self-Improvementizing....(yes, I made up a new word)

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WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry


*******

we are two
two men
two lovers
in one shared flat

our space was close
now even smaller
as the world's paused
and we've consolidated
we're compact

we share
the space
the table
the shower
and especially the bed

he sleeps easily
noise-fully snoring
sonorously
loud-fully
as I watch him--
with all the minutes
and the hours studying his profile
I could sketch him in my head

He eats
and smacks his lips
belches like a sonic boom
and then coyly grins

He snorts often
when he's laughing
trims his nails with his teeth
and uses a card to pick at his mouth
he might be brushing them
instead

He leaves piles of clothes
in every room
and whiskers in the sink
the clothes gather like mineral deposits
accumulating on the floor
the chairs
the bed

my eyes follow him
noticing whatever he does
wherever he goes

I sigh deeply when he returns
his frame filling the doorway
never block out the sun

any room he leaves
feels half-empty
he doesn't complain
as I follow him picking up dishes
and folding clothes

in the morning
I see him wearing pinstripes
peering underneath his long overcoat
and how his cologne
often lingers
and how I lean into its bouquet
long after he's left for work.


legal copyright for this poem 10:10 AM PST time and date stamped--2/24/2021
and also FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND
ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD....

WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE, WILL RETURN FOR EDITING AS NEEDED








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