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regret.
i regret letting you in.

love will always start with illusion.
and i fell in love with
the mirage you displayed.
i told myself that
the person i fell in love with
was still there.
that is why i stuck around

for so long.

for so long i believed that you still loved me
as much as the sun loved the sky.
even when you said you didn’t,
even when your voice didn’t feel like

home.

home was late night conversations.
home was your laugh ringing in my ears.
but what was once the house we loved in,
it is now dominated by ghosts.

it has been 8 months.
i still

regret.
i regret letting you in.
 Feb 2018 María Carreras
alexa
you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.
i told my therapist about you,
while your lips were still slathered alllll over my body.
i showed her the places we had been,
and all the things we had seen.
i told her what lies underneath that pretty
                                              pretty
skin of yours,
and i told her how i knew.
i spelt out your name as she scribbled it on her cute little clipboard,
i told her about the   first     night
and the      second
and the   fourth
and that time in the closet.
i told her everything,
i really just wanted to   get
                                                  you
                                      out  
of my brain,
it didn't matter if saying these things put me in  sososo  much pain.
because you've  moved   on  so why can't i?
i told my therapist about you,
but i still can't tell you
                                           goodbye.  
i know i'm  s t u p i d,
for holding on this l
                               o
                                n
                             ­    g,
i know it's useless,
for wishing you weren't                              gone.
but my words carry on like a heartbeat
s     l      o      w
steady
                          fast
u   s   e   d
  n    t   a   y
i   keep   keep   keep  breaking and breaking and breaking and
i told my therapist about you.
i think part of the reason why we hold onto something so tight is because we fear something that great will never ever happen twice

****
i was in so much pain when i wrote this, my lover had just left with two years of my life and i felt so so so alone. i chewed through therapists constantly, they left me behind because i was too broken to fix. i hated them all. but there was this one, this one singular human being that listened to me. she didn't flinch, she didn't look at me like i was a broken puppy left for death. she just listened. i was all over the place, but i managed to lay out my entire mind for her to dissect. and she did. she helped me so so much, and i could never repay her enough for how she has helped me. when i got home, i wrote the basics of this. it was like 12:30 when i wrote it and i couldn't sleep the next night so i decided to make this look exactly how i felt when i wrote it the night before. how my lover made me feel for so long. so i did. i was crying mountains, i was hyperventilating, i threw my phone through the wall. i put all my anger, blood, tears in each letter, each space. i put it all in there and then posted it a couple weeks later. i didn't show anyone. i just put it out there, hoping my lover would see it. but it didn't even matter cause when i woke up, the whole world saw it instead. thank you. i love you all.
 Jan 2018 María Carreras
Lunar
i want to know
how to unknow you
Tonight: I wish all of this, and all of some people, never happened. I am tired just for tonight.

(j.m.)
Every day is a new day, yes,
But all of my days after you
Are now all filled with fear.

Every day I worry you will find me,
I worry that not only will you find me,
You will **** me.

You wouldn’t **** me with your words,
If that was the case I’ve been dead for years.
But you’ll attack me with those strong, calloused hands of yours.

You’ll take one look at me and your face will change to anger
And you’ll reach at my neck and choke me until I can no longer breathe.

Or you’ll start with a punch to my gut,
You’ll black out and beat me until I lie motionless on the street.
And you’ll leave and never look back.

Today,
Today is a new day.
Today is a very bad day.

Today,
I see you for the first time in years.
I pray for the first time, hoping you haven’t seen me.

Maybe I should have prayed earlier on in my life,
Because within seconds,
I feel your gaze on me.

I feel hot,
Yet frozen,
Frozen in fear.

My heart is beating heavily against my chest,
I cannot catch my breath
As I’m struggling to think of what to do next.

Before my mind has a chance to disagree,
I run out of the store I didn’t remember walking into,
And run through the parking lot to my car.

I can hear your feet hitting the pavement,
You’re screaming my name with disbelief,
Not yet with the anger I was surely convinced I would hear.

I reach my car,
Fumbling with the keys,
I manage to open my door before you get to me.

As I’m closing the door,
You force it open.
You beg and plead for me to explain why I left.

Why I left you,
Why I no longer love you,
And why I am deathly afraid of you.

I look up at you,
Thinking of whether I should tell you the truth.
Instead, I decided to stand up to you.

“I don’t owe you anything.”
You reach down into my car to grab me,
I let out a shriek and tried to close the door.

But you were standing in the way.
The top corner of the door frame hit you in the head,
You reel backwards.

At this moment,
I realize what I have done.
I have put myself into even more danger.

Your face flashes quickly between pain to anger.
I close the door, successfully this time,
Put the key into the ignition and start my car.

I lock my doors before you started pulling on the handles,
Using all of your weight you try to pry the door open.

After trying unsuccessfully to get in you walked away,
I finally feel at peace.
You’ve left me be.

Peace didn’t last long.
You only left long enough to find a rock,
A rock big enough to break my window.

You hurl the large rock into my backseat window,
I shriek as you scream profanities at me.
I try to start driving out of the parking lot, but before I could, your hands are around my neck.

Your grip grows tighter and tighter with every new word screamed at me,
I dig my long nails into your skin, trying to set myself free.

I should have known there’s no escape from you.
I cannot breathe,
I’m gasping,

Gasping for air,
Gasping for help,
Gasping for my last chance at life.

I feel weak,
I cannot move,
I’m drifting in and out of reality.

The last thing I hear is his voice quietly whispering my name,
Followed by “I’m sorry.”

And everything turns dark.
I had a dream awhile ago about my ex boyfriend choking me to death so here it is written out for all to read.
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
You're facing me, but your eyes are no where to be found.
Yes, you are facing me but your face is featureless.
All that's visible is your beard and the lips it protects.
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
sludge pours from your gaping mouth.
A dark purple, thick liquid dripping slowly down your chin.
Most of the sludge makes a home in your beard,
just like my fingers used to burrow inside
and gently scratch the skin hiding underneath.
You used to love that.
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
sludge is never ending.
Yet, this pool calls out to me,
as if to say "paint in my missing features."
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
sludge smells sweet but sticks to my fingers.
I try to paint in your eyes but am stopped,
for I am unable to remember what your eyes look like.
Your mouth begins moving,
but there is no sound;
no words forming at the tip of your
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
lips.
Of all details of you,
I remember your lips.
Kissing you was effortless.
Our lips would lock and never depart.
Your mouth always tasted of sugar; sweet, but too sweet.
Months of being tongue tied left me with cavities.
Your lips no longer look inviting when
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
sludge continuously flows from them.
Looking closer now,
I can see letters forming at the tip of your tongue.
Too afraid to explore your mouth with my own once again,
I use ******* to gently pick up the letter.
M
Confused, I look again as more letters appear.
O-N-S-T-E-R
M
   O
      N
         S
           T
             ­ E
                 R
was your favorite pet name for me.
In our most
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
moments, I became the girl in your nightmares.
I  became a
M
   O
      N
         S
           T
              E
         ­        R
I at least was only a
M
   O
      N
         S
           T
              E
         ­        R
in your nightmares.
Every waking day you were,
and always will be
T
  O
      X
          I
             C
 Nov 2017 María Carreras
SHE
Love
 Nov 2017 María Carreras
SHE
Love is a choice not just an emotion,

It is not just a feeling overnight;

It is as fast as the speed of light.

Love is chaotic that is true,

It feels like Heaven and hurts like Hell.
#love#choice
being a poet in love
means writing down
every single emotion
you’ve ever felt on to paper

it means turning simple things
about a person into
deep details that only
you would notice

such as when the one you
love simply smiles at you
that could turn into
“his mouth turned upward into
a small smile upon his cheeks
making my stomach erupt
into tiny butterflies”

it means writing every single
interaction you’ve had with that
person and turning it into something
poetic and beautiful even if it’s as
simple as a smile

it means letting your heart
do the writing for you as the
emotions pour out of your mind

but it also means heartbreak
lots and lots of heartbreak
having your heartbroken
even helps poets write about
being in love

it’s hard being a poet in love
because we can never find
someone who truly wants
to be written about
wrote this for a contest enjoy
 Nov 2017 María Carreras
SHE
Hard to get.
Minimalistic poetry
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