melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

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

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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people fall in love
over tables
 not over oatmeal
but at restaurants

cupid arrows fly
the china clink-chimes
and the glasses ching-ching
the smiles grow enticingly wide

so wide
you'd think they were eating one another
not the salad

truth:
men like the chase
dazzle with wine and dine
until familiarity arrives
like a pulled stocking
and unravels everything

the once alluring face
and charms wane
and become thinned

but I prefer
spending time
and not counting moments
and finding out how
thoughts and sentences coincidentally
collide and rhyme
and could possibly make-up
a lyric to a gathering song
between me and him

women draw their breaths in
and hold onto them to a point fixed in the air
their eyes lingering long
and holding on to the moment

men are adept at
the pant and the stare
tongues waggling on
about themselves

when woman fills
the conversation
where she can
and feigns at rapt interest

when the attention span wane
a man's eyes betray
and begin to scout other potential prey
lurking 'round

men are up in their heads
while women think with their faces
sometimes revealing it all
giving the man too much information

women are on the menu
and men have limiting appetites
if she's the daily-gourmet-special
she's out of the line of his site/sight

wildness and variety
and consumption by satiety
is a combination
the man,
like a Greyhound,
 chooses
to pursue

while
I would rather eat alone
than nibble
bites of every man
I chew

still we carry on
with two separate ideas
of romance

he the lion
I the gazelle
across a table
taking my chance
at this game called pursuit

I know one must eat to survive
yet
I don't wish to be devoured
to feel alive

I'm not the dish
nor the leftovers
the first course
the main course
nor even the soup

mister
look at me
you're hungry
but don't you dare play with me
like I was your food.



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:47PM PST 9/26/2022 MONDAY DATE AND TIME STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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