m e l i s s i m a.

1.»

Here’s to three days beyond your celebration, and just hours into mine…

Here’s to juggling three time zones and still, gracefully maintaining my sanity…

Here’s to late night trips to Colorado and back…

Here’s to military quizzes, and smart aleck answers…

Here’s to tall boys, red-meat grilling, and Oreos…

Here’s to laughter-filled emails, and tactfully dispersed humor…

Here’s to unwatched-movie lists, unattempted life plans, but the desire to tackle both…

Here’s to jumping on beds, taking silly pictures, and playing with dinosaurs…

Here’s to names; both good ones and bad…

Here’s to Lolita; a virgin sea of pages laced with the whit of Nabokov…

Here’s to early morning alarm clocks, and late night good-nights…

Here’s to those three hours, that’ve turned into thirty days… 

Here’s to 1 Month.

-m e l i s s i m a.

It’s Not Science; It’s Matter.»

Sometimes words don’t matter.

Sometimes photographs don’t matter.

Sometimes feelings don’t matter.

It’s when those ‘Sometimes’ turn to ‘All the Time,’

That Everything starts to matter.

-melissa ashley

Can’t Stop.»

Sometimes people run away, not because they crave novelty.

Sometimes people run away, not because they want space.

Sometimes people run away, not because they need time.

Sometimes people run away, because all they crave…all they want…all they need…is for someone to chase them.

-melissa ashley

You’re Not Mr. Man.»

Don’t try to make these pale cheeks blush… They’ve rouged before, they’ve had enough.

Your time on me, dear friend, don’t waste… I’m interested not, in learning your taste.

 ——-

Say not what I’d like, what could be, what might. I don’t want to hear it… don’t bother… take flight.

My affection I guard, for the one on my mind… It’s only for him, despite this wrong time.

——-

The attention you crave, day after day, is hidden inside me… but not yours to take.

I don’t mean to scar you, dear friend, I swear… But love her instead, she’d cherish, she’d care.

 ——-

I ask for my space… some room to breathe, friend. ‘Cause I don’t want part, in your fairy tale end.

Don’t try to change things, to take center stage. For, for each other, we just weren’t made.

——-

There’s someone out there, for you I know. But don’t look here… you’ll just hear “no.”

If you keep trying, we’ll suffer, us both. Love yourself, friend… don’t love me the most.

 ——-

Don’t mean to be harsh, but you’re ruining my plan… the one that I have, with my Mr. Man.

He’s not at all perfect, he’s flawed unlike you… but his flaws I love more… more than perfect you.

 ——-

Sometimes he slips, I must scare him away… Still he comes back, knows just what to say.

Just short of mature, Mr. Man still must grow… But I feel it’s inside him, it’s something I know.

——-

My mind says I’m wrong, and maybe it’s so… But my heart I report to, and I just can’t let go.

A smile he flashes, and up goes my grin… Comes back each time, despite sin after sin.

——-

Around his pinky, I’m so tightly wrapped… Sometimes securely, sometimes just trapped.

He’s so far away, from me here, from me now. Yet he, and he only, completes “us“ somehow.

——-

He’s who I think of, when I’m lost and alone… I seek his green eyes, my refuge, my home.

Please, my dear friend, don’t make room for two… my heart is packed full, just not full of you.

——-  

‘Tis passion that feeds thy soul so strong, and I’d been starving… 

‘Til he came along.

——-

You’re wonderful, please know, dear friend, you’re grand… You’re just not the one, you’re not Mr. Man.

The one I speak of, he knows his place well… It’s only a matter, of breaking Time’s spell.

-melissa ashley a.

Sometimes, what I want the most in life is what I know has the greatest potential to harm me. Sometimes, I reject what’s right in front of me, what’s “perfect,” because it’s not challenging enough…because it’s not what I wanted from the start. Sometimes, I’m staring at the right answer, but I go for the wrong one instead, just because I can… Because I’m stubborn enough to. Sometimes, I’m selfish. And sometimes, I’m a heartbreaker too. | I’m sorry, friend. But you’re not Mr. Man.

Missing Myself.»

I’ve stopped writing. I’ve stopped a lot of things lately.

I’ve become a mechanical being, filling in squares…desensitized from who I am. All I see are lists, calendar dates, expectations from all angles. There’s proof of success on paper, spelled out boldly in my name… Sure, I see it- but I’m not reading it. I don’t believe in it…

Balance completely uncalibrated. Mind drained. Tolerance expired. And feelings gone. I find myself dragging… Stuffing time with anything to let it go by. Not smart; just necessary.

Tomorrow night I’ll wear my hair up. My back will be bare in a simple, elegant black gown. And I’ll dance my night away in a luxurious room, filled with lavish things, and high class people. It’ll be beautiful.

My fear is that I won’t be there…that Melissa won’t really be there. Just her figure…

Dirty Laundry.»

I wish life had a ‘Refresh’ button.

I wish I didn’t have to filter my thoughts for fear of being inappropriate or disrespectful.

I wish people would reevaluate their priorities and realize that life is too short.

I wish I weren’t paranoid.

I wish I could watch an entire movie without falling asleep.

I wish it were easier to step up to the plate.

I wish time would revolve around my clock.

I wish I could yell and scream without having to worry about the neighbors.

I wish it were easy to separate the bad seeds from the good ones; like dirty laundry.