I find that I enjoy writing.
A lot.
I don't know if it's the fact that I can write about whatever I am feeling and then move on... or if it's because for the amount of time that I spend writing I allow myself to imagine and create... leaving me feeling like a little kid again.
Whichever it is, I hope that upon the finding of a badly written poem or a romanticized story in this blog, that you can just sit back and enjoy it.
I like writing, I like pretend.
I hope that you do too.
.....
And now for a series of Poetic Thoughts and Romantic Words
.....
"What's the point?" He asked. She looked at him questioningly. Even while he was down and out she was scared of saying the wrong thing. "What is the purpose of life?!" He continued passionately.
"Perhaps there is no purpose. Maybe it just is." She could tell instantly this was not the answer he wanted to hear.
"No purpose! I don't understand how anyone could go day to day and continue living with the thought that their life has no purpose!" His words seemed haggard as he cupped his head back into his hands.
He looked up at her again. This time with less despair in his eyes. This time with more softness as he simply stated,
"Perhaps..."
.....
And now for a series of Poetic Thoughts and Romantic Words
.....
Slipping Through The Cracks
by Melissa Steele
At least half of me is antisocial.
Cobwebs remain there amongst the cracks in the wall.
It's where the spiders crawl in and out.
Spinning stories and weaving dreams.
Kind enough of them.
The cracks are so long though that sometimes one might think
"This whole place will come down."
Collapse.
If it rains the water slips through them.
Running water.
Like cream soda.
I have a weakness for cream soda, you know?
Something about it's sweetness.
The water leaves a trail.
I believe that water damage can't ever truly be undone.
But who am I to know?
I look to my left and see a bathtub.
Relax.
Even there the water is brown.
Dirty with the age of the pipes and left over filth.
It could use a good scrubbing.
The rain has stopped
Out of the weathered window I take a peek.
The world outside is lovely really.
Even from here in this place I can spot a rainbow.
Perhaps it too will begin slipping through the cracks.
A Dream
by Melissa Steele
She sat on the edge of a mountain, arms folded against the chill in the air. The lights in the town below her had just turned on and the sky was a beautiful Autumn gold. It was Autumn wasn't it? At this realization the leaves began to fall around her. She did not care about the lack of trees, this was a dream world after all, the leaves could fall wherever they please. They became a natural gold glitter... transforming her world into something different and beautiful.
And then she saw him standing there and she wasn't afraid to approach him. His jacket was warm as he slipped it over her shoulders and sweetly whispered something about her freckles being beautiful in this light into her ear. She was truly happy, truly comfortable. They sat on the edge of that mountain together, watching the world glow in it's golden hue. Soaking in each others warmth. Not talking about anything in particular. He kissed her gently and told her she deserved to be loved, and in that dream world... she believed it.
Perhaps
by Melissa Steele
At least half of me is antisocial.
Cobwebs remain there amongst the cracks in the wall.
It's where the spiders crawl in and out.
Spinning stories and weaving dreams.
Kind enough of them.
The cracks are so long though that sometimes one might think
"This whole place will come down."
Collapse.
If it rains the water slips through them.
Running water.
Like cream soda.
I have a weakness for cream soda, you know?
Something about it's sweetness.
The water leaves a trail.
I believe that water damage can't ever truly be undone.
But who am I to know?
I look to my left and see a bathtub.
Relax.
Even there the water is brown.
Dirty with the age of the pipes and left over filth.
It could use a good scrubbing.
The rain has stopped
Out of the weathered window I take a peek.
The world outside is lovely really.
Even from here in this place I can spot a rainbow.
Perhaps it too will begin slipping through the cracks.
A Dream
by Melissa Steele
She sat on the edge of a mountain, arms folded against the chill in the air. The lights in the town below her had just turned on and the sky was a beautiful Autumn gold. It was Autumn wasn't it? At this realization the leaves began to fall around her. She did not care about the lack of trees, this was a dream world after all, the leaves could fall wherever they please. They became a natural gold glitter... transforming her world into something different and beautiful.
And then she saw him standing there and she wasn't afraid to approach him. His jacket was warm as he slipped it over her shoulders and sweetly whispered something about her freckles being beautiful in this light into her ear. She was truly happy, truly comfortable. They sat on the edge of that mountain together, watching the world glow in it's golden hue. Soaking in each others warmth. Not talking about anything in particular. He kissed her gently and told her she deserved to be loved, and in that dream world... she believed it.
Perhaps
by Melissa Steele
He sat there with his head in his hands. She honestly didn't know how to talk to him but she felt like she should. Before she had a chance to say anything he looked at her with blurry eyes.
"What's the point?" He asked. She looked at him questioningly. Even while he was down and out she was scared of saying the wrong thing. "What is the purpose of life?!" He continued passionately.
"Perhaps there is no purpose. Maybe it just is." She could tell instantly this was not the answer he wanted to hear.
"No purpose! I don't understand how anyone could go day to day and continue living with the thought that their life has no purpose!" His words seemed haggard as he cupped his head back into his hands.
There was a long pause. Silence.
"Perhaps..." she began. "Perhaps it is as the Greeks said; humans were originally made with four arms, four legs and two heads. Then as the Gods realized how powerful they were, they were fated to be divided in half, and so the purpose of life became to find the other half and regain their power."
He looked up at her again. This time with less despair in his eyes. This time with more softness as he simply stated,
"Perhaps..."
