Melissa Nikolova

I am

Messages:
Written on discarded napkins.
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Humanity is a string of lights,
All so interwoven,
Such bright little dots of illumination,
Collectively shining out into the world.
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We take.
We take, and we take, and we take…
There’s no longer any creativity left in the world.
It sits there with a clandestine plan, hiding all of its secrets,
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He sits.
A calculator is set off to the side
As he furiously scribbles on the page in front of him,
Trying to finish.
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Miss Drop-Dead-Gorgeous… Really.
They told me about you, you know.
They say you’re beautiful, gorgeous, in fact.
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A noble butterfly quivers gently in the air.
A wing of deep violet bends further with the strain of its flight.
The aura of innocence surrounding it fills with the worst of connotations.
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We sat writing notes,
Because I didn’t want to talk…
But wanted to communicate.
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She sits in silent disbelief.
There's nothing left.
Disaffected, she cried.
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Beauty is nothing but a beholder’s gaze.
I sit in forever, loving and waiting,
Another petal un-plucked
As the voice counts down to my death:
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Do you remember those little kid Valentine’s Day cards?
Those small, foiled pieces of cardboard,
They defined you.
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My New Legos.
They just keep piling up.
I have so many
That I could build myself a fort.
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Why does my world revolve around you?
Smaller, tighter,
I can’t seem to get away.
You’re just another black hole,
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Do you know how painful it is to get dressed up for you?
Do you know how sad it is,
A lonely girl with no one in the audience for her?
Poems, stories, all with the central theme of your abandonment.
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The world spins by me in colors of iridescent neon.
Eons of eternity have come together for this, the world of us.
A decadent, luscious place of utter hedonism.
It’s only a matter of time until we self-destruct in a plume of our own noxious smoke.
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