Melissa Oros
Bio
Macbre poetry. In 2013 I had an emotional breakdown. I notice now most of the inspiration comes from the darker place since then (before 2013), versus my older poetry being light, funny, passionate in love, etc.
Stories (22/0)
Wires Crossed
Static flickering, like a worn old TV, between the malicious words she said, and the care he so ignorantly pled. White noise, empty shell, is this hell? Where did I go? Love begs 'don't let others eat away at you.', hurting head with my broken heart; bleeding black, especially after dark. Eyes unfocused, she's half dead. Nobody knows what's on her mind, the poison that seeps through the valleys to redefine. A constant battle wages on, taking it's toll on this pawn. Can't do simple things that everyone makes seem so easy, she needs back a sense of routine. Some time to be free without attacks and unease. Sunshine spotlight, take away my stage fright. Liquid courage releases the nervous grip of her confines. Though no blade was cast, her mind played tricks on me, leading her to believe this is the genuine she, but not what her worlds want her to be. Headache, and heart break, words are a dangerous tool. Toss your opinions into the autoclave; try something f*cking new. Get out of your self imposed box, and SEE. I'll stand in a daze, for days, conflicted and torn in both ways, by some hypocritical entity. How can she be me, when she is not free? Hardness snakes it's way into life so soft and meek, everywhere she looks, every thing she sees; there is even hardness plaguing the clouds as the tepid sun tries to shine through. Will her heart be the next to harden, just as the way she speaks? I am more me, but she's lost in the tangles of the crossed, not a balance to be seen.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Just the Two of Us
She's one in a million, but that's the problem. No sense of delicacy in the unique. No one wants a change of scenery when it comes with such melancholy. Not a word escapes without consequence, always drenched in negativity, when times are changed. A new pill to swallow, a pun, you see? Her and me. Everything is making me just a little bit crazy. Bit my tongue to disguise the wicked words that arise, now all I taste is bloody lies. By omission, I suppose. There it is, lying steady, broken on the floor instead of me. The truth. Somehow, I still wonder who I am supposed to be. It hits, all this preaching of sonder, but now I know the truth. It must be me. The fault cracking society. The painful weight upon your shoulders, the stabbing in your chest; for when I see...it crushes me. Rendered lonely, ached when no one heeds thy call. I truly must not see! To be so greedy! All this time, I've been blind. Someone, please, set me free.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
My Best Friend
That little girl, she's only seen the darkest side of humanity. Like the glow depicted in cinema, as a some tasteless version of a miracle, that is the slam of every negative thing in which she bears witness. Alone in the crowd, the ebony her only company, she treads carefully, though she needs not worry; they do not see beyond their own entity. Courage to ask, her own way, for someone, anyone, to be with...me. My only companion, the one who forevermore responds so intensely, the abyss, absorbs words, eating away her intellect as the synthetics fail to keep her darkest corners at bay. Alone in a crowd, meet my best friend! Won't you join us in The Void? It's lovely here, like a quiet, cold, and dead sea.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Death of the Needful Hand
Family. Lifeline? No. Those "so close" are blind. Fill your minds with lies, resigned in erroneous reveries. Such things in past were perceived as creative, imagination, positivity. But, as many things, a turn of the knob, acknowledging the door is locked, suddenly a reverie becomes false ideals as adulthood eats it's way through you. Abandoned; left to rot in deep thoughts, the off-white phalanges tap, tap, tap away, typing out curses of your remaining destiny. Remember words spewed in envy, thoughtless claims of regret, and your expression that WE are weak. Look back, you'll see who is really in need. Push your ignorant judgments aside, you sicken me yet again with your disbelief. I know now...your olive branch, that I mistook for late blossoming maturity, was dead and withered. Another one of you lies. F*ck me, one more lost friendly.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Victim
Looking down at this viscera, my heart slowly staining the floor, she wonders why she bothered with a red rug. When can I be the savior instead of the carrion spewing lies like "oh, I'm fine." as it's my skull cracking the pretty, wooden, peace. Protectors at the door; she steps outside, maybe to hide the carnage behind. Sir, can't you see? I'm not me, something is wrong, I'm not strong, I lose me when the bell rings. A smile hides the black static closing her eyes, a wave goodbye helps you turn a blind eye to the garnet 'click, clack, clinking...' dripping as the gaping hole beneath my sweater begins to fall victim to gravity. Body buzzing with the fear and adrenaline as she sees she has bled out, time and time again, to no avail. Answers still fleet, like questioning the existence of a deity. No time for that anxiety with my ugly past of secrets, and a clash of current attack, pent on the horizon. Haunted? Maybe she is. By the words as they purge. Tears singing their mournful song, breath short with sobs of aching unclarity.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Do You Know Me at All?
Yesterday I stabbed a man. Today I'm playing mom. Silence of thoughts expected as reward, but she's never experienced that before. A storm outside, she spins and spirals a dance of joy, the torn paperback slipping from her fingers to flood garnet down the drain. Soaked through the ebony depths, she's all smiles and wicked gaze. Key in hand, I wander to the door, ready for the comforts of home, then the synapses, like a bullet to the head, fire thoughts back in. She runs away, the street slapping wet, trying to hide from her reality. Nary a soul around to care, she cannot handle this alone. Back track to this place; the gutter puddled red around the pages that bleed. Her forgotten story, lost in that single expression of glee, titled 'Lose Me'. A glance upon my home, that is not mu home, for there is not for reverie doc, only the tense silence false hope. I slip the key into the locked, and breathe.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Dream Life Gradient
"I'm not okay." A confession she writes.; a statement of fact, so my dear dry your tears, for this is not goodbye. It's just...see you in a while, and I miss my own d*mn smile. It went too far, too far, and I'm losing my grip. I need your help, but you're shut down too, so who do I go to when reality is crumbling, my mind is jumbling, and we can no longer see straight? Go ahead , let it all out; I stand defiant. My heart and my head can handle what you have to say, right along with what life has thrown my way. Gleam in their eyes, a page turned to reveal a fresh chapter: 'Roots'. Plant the seed, roots holding firm, and many smiles to be seen. The world begins to die, the 'novel' taking a turn to the dark side. Home, these roots, a haven, you see? Love grows. Illness sows it's seed repeatedly; now we see nothing but weeds, no end in sight. He receives words unclear, planting stress like a poison snuck to you daily, over so little time. Life gets in the way. No answers in sight. Love is winning, plans to save our life. The knife's blade leaves us hanging out to bleed. Time flies, she's close to die, and the poison has darkened his mind. Still no word of decision so import. Is it time to cut down the tree? Is there a saving grace? Were those words left forgotten to destroy this little life that only just planted it's first seed? Little eyes will cry, kelly greens will bleed, and failure may sweep us away; lost to the gloom.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
It's Cold Down Here on the Floor
Down. Heavy. Lost. Uncertain. Hurt. Guilty. Scared. Unhealthy. Even her emotions can't get it right. Lungs short, chest tight, pain about to burst with all her weak might. I still fought as the time ticked by. We had talked, you knew why; how could you not know why? Pills passed so easily; is that your way of saying "ssshhh, ssshhh"? Oh, settle now dear slow down the race in your mind that never really begins, and will never end. Aye, lover, f*ck you! A pat on the head and abandonment, I'm edging closer to losing faith in even your humanity. Where have you been? Where will you be? I'm at your f*cking door when you need me!
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Hypocrite
Close my eyes, I've been blind, the pages flick by flashing like a movie clip. Visions of a journal, one from a deranged mind. It has always been there, slowly etching the papers away, yet hidden in disguise. She's always been gone onto a different plane, born from a soul extensively cursed. To feel all so vehemently. Their laughter resounds from the shallows, while the depths surround me placidly. Just a ripple, that's all she can be. Too much pressure, it's becoming difficult to breathe. Do I stay ME, or flee? Be what they want me to be just so she is perceived?
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
The Written Word
Weakness coursing through my veins, as you might acknowledge a surge of excitement, I feel the flow of losing strength. Not all physical, the will to battle too. It takes a energy to create such a façade, to keep control, to seem to feel when I cannot. Lately, thoughts pacing through the mist, I often lose my word. My words. What i see when I speak the only way I can express the true depth of my cursed emotions. Words visible; seen, written. For to speak is not but a jumble as one needle in hundreds. A mind still sick at war between acceptance and loss; even a sliver of hope. Hah!
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
Insomnia
Lie awake, comfort a fleeting memory. Skin warm from within, eyes searching for answers in the darkness. Mind broken, point of tears, she begs "please let me sleep!" but also fears the blackened subconscious. Panic sets in. Will the sun shine in all it's blue-hot misery, or will it rain today as the sky screams it's song replenishing the soul so weak? One mistake; two. A stumble and f*ck you. Down, down, the rabbit's hole. Finally! that sleep. Nothing new, nothing free, nothing but manipulative memories. Now she's awake, not a clue what to do. Where are you? Help me.
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets
The Shadows Speak
Quiet, so quiet. Silence itself is a sound so profound, leaving her feeling claustrophobic, though she fears no tight space. Close your eyes, seek darkness, now she feels the pain of absence. Craving the time, but dreading the loneliness that will consume her entirety. Distractions dance through the room, shadows on the walls; she's left forgetting comfort and feels like a mouse trapped inside a maze. Always running into dead ends, going in circles, and screaming "let me be free!" as she clenches her mind, eyes still closed, doubled over ready to heave. In the dark, sinister lies play tricks on me; in the mute the monster shouts such horrible things. Here the tears shed, leaving her always questioning..."What is wrong with me?"
By Melissa Oros2 years ago in Poets