The walls were papered and named a garden.No soil. No water. Nothing to till and seed.Arid brittle flakes.The room a stagnant cage.No bed for real to root in.No nutrients to heal the withered.There are no blooms in dead air.This is where I leave you.-Melissa Donley
Month: November 2025
Junkie
You sayDon’t wanna be meNever gonna see meHow can you believe meCall meString of bad newsPoison in the brewWhat’s a man got to doYou takeAll of the praiseLeave me to shameWithout a nameYeah you’reReady to scoreCreaks on the floorBreath at the doorBegging for moreBaby, moreBaby, moreBut I don’tLive there anymore-Melissa […]