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Grace is found flourishing beneath skin blooming from each scar.

Melissa Anderson

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Bloom Flourish Grace Scar Skin

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Peaceful dreams find me pull me from reality in their arms I land.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Arms Dream Land Peace Pull Reality
I was always looking at you.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Always Look Myself Yourself
I see things written in the sky, Spelled out in plain and ordinary ways, even the unpoetic becomes magic when read next to you.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Magic Myself Ordinary Plain Poetry See Sky Spell Write Yourself
Stars fell in our eyes the night sky our canvas, we painted the moon red.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Eyes Love Moon Night Paint Relationship Sky Stars
There are ocean waves inside these veins – constantly pulling me to you.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Constant Love Myself Ocean Pull Wave Yourself
Imagination is lost in reality’s cruelty.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Cruel Imagination Lost Reality
Tend to your own garden and watch the beauty you begin to see in others.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Beauty Garden Myself World Yourself
Making me feel small won’t make you feel tall I’ve faced bigger giants than you and watched them fall.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Fall Feel Giant Myself Small Tall
I will love you from afar it’s better this way because close up it hurts too much.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Close Far Hurt Love Myself Pain Relationship Yourself
I will remain soft in a world marked by hardness.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Hard Mark Myself Soft World
Poems are nothing more than raindrops on a page falling from an open soul, staining the page one shade darker, and opening the one closed passage between me and you.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Close Darkness Drop Fall Myself Page Passage Poetry Rain Shade Soul Stain Yourself
I am the moments and memories from the past tied up with good intentions and mistakes from the future.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Future Good Intention Memories Mistake Moment Myself Past
I was quiet, yes but I heard all you never said, your silence read.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Myself Quiet Silence Yourself
Poetry runs through tired veins reviving once sleeping souls.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Poetry Revive Run Sleep Soul Tired
Less rushing, more lingering. Less distraction, more noticing. Less comparison, more gratitude.
MELISSA ANDERSON

Comparison Distract Gratitude Minimalism Notice Rush
If hearts are our homes, why do we let others break windows and throw stones?
MELISSA ANDERSON

Break Heart Home Hurt Myself Pain Stone Throw Window

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