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Marci Mareburger Oct 2015
I find myself watching
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Over and over and over again.

I've seen this movie over 200 times.
I watched it seven times in one day
Over and over and over again...

The equivalent of
more than fourteen hours;
more than half of a day wasted
pretending I could erase him too.
I just couldn't stop.

The fantasy was too enthralling...
I wished I had Alzheimer's,
since the procedure doesn't exist,
but if I did, he would have been
the only thing
I could remember.

That was three years ago.
And honestly,
I'm not sure why
I've watched it
three times this week.

I think I'm preparing myself
for the moment
when what seems
too good to be true
finally is.

And maybe when this moment strikes me
like a bolt of lightning,
I won't feel the need to watch it
as many times as before.

Then again,
I've heard lightning never strikes
the same place twice.

I hope for the best
and prepare for the worst.


...Ironically enough,
I hope that I forget
I felt this way
tomorrow.
"Blessed are the forgetful, fore they get the better even of their blunders."
Marci Mareburger Oct 2015
I am in love
And I fight love like a war
I wasn't trained for.

In the simplest terms:
Love is giving someone
the power to destroy you
and trusting they won't.

But how can I trust him not to destroy me
when I have become a mosaic:
picking up my broken pieces,
again and again,
only to arrange them into something
more beautiful than I was to begin with.

I guess this is why I trust him...
Even if he were to destroy me
I'd have more broken glass
to use for the masterpiece
that I've been creating for years.

I wonder if this is all in my head...
I'm no longer an enigma
but a work of art,
and an artist's work is never complete.

I suppose I await the day
when he picks me up
and throws me to the floor.

I swore I heard him say he didn't love me
the same way I love him
and I felt a piece fall and shatter.

I must wait
to add that piece
back in with the others
when I collect the remnants
of who I was before him.

...At least I'm used to it now.
I want to ******* tear you apart.
  Aug 2015 Marci Mareburger
Padan Fain
Full of life
the fire surged through the glade
hips swayed, lips splayed
pushing up leaves and leaving
a smile that found a better home
at forty than at twenty

those castaway eyes
glistened with hopes
two Lost might cling to,
broken flotsam
on the heaving chests
of hurt youth

We met our end,
eyes shut as tightly
as a loving mothers tuck,
burnt in the glade
2013-03-03
First of all, stop being such a feminist.
Feminism does not advocate equality of the sexes.
It advocates that you are a *****.
Stop saying how you feel.
Stop screaming that it hurts. Just take it, *****.
Stop being such a girl all the time.
Yes, I used the G word. The highest insult there is.
Are you going to cry about this
or man up and deal with it?
Listen, he does not like you hairy down there.
So shave up real good. But ******,
you are taking too long! You don't want to be late.
Hurry up, do it quickly!
Don't worry about the razor cuts, you have a date!
Oh no, he is here already. Apologize.
Laugh, when his friend smirks at him-
"Women, huh?"
Be yourself but don't be too you.
Don't be offended. Laugh.
Be the girl he is proud to have.
The most important of all -
Stop complaining.
There are certain things that he likes; accept it.
He likes to watch the game,
hang out with his homies once in a while.
Also, the occasional  appreciation
for the hottie at the bar.
Remember, it is okay.
But make sure you don't like to shop a lot.
You don't want to fit the stereotype, girl!
Make sure you- like- don't-like-talk, I mean, like this.
Ditch the red lipstick. Don't try to look too pretty.
Pretty means dumb.
So what if he does not remember your anniversary?
Don't nag him about it.
Look down and smile when he says to you, before leaving-
"Bros before hos."
Don't start crying like a girl, **.
  Aug 2015 Marci Mareburger
Sarah Spang
Sometimes beneath close eyelids
I quest to bring you back
As if you were driftwood floating
Downstream on your back.
I dip my hands beneath the veil
And dry away the death
And from my parting, weeping lips
I give you back your breath-
Just like the rising sunset burning
In the summer sky
Paints and saints the mountaintops
And casts their colors bright.



Unrhymed Notes:

Sometimes I dream I can bring you back
Just as simply as dipping my hands into the water
To retrieve a floating piece of driftwood;
Dry the death from your skin
And breath life back into you
The way the sunrise reanimates
The Dark Mountains
Each and every day.

I see your Ocean eyes open
Embrace you like I'm trying to
Fold you into my skin
Where I can keep you always
And feel your summer peach warm flesh
Tangible against my permafrost fingers.

If the dead could talk
Nothing profound would leave your lips
They'd only quirk into a Cheshire smile
And you'd tell me to let go
Relinquish
Move along and stop standing still
Life is for the Living
Death is for the dead
And dreams are for the foolish.


"You *******."
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