Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Mare Nov 2017
I wonder how many boys in New York City have your name.  
I wonder if they’d all look at me the way you did,
Like a hungry coyote.
You could smell my weakness,
And so you bared your teeth into a smile,
and offered me a drink.
You tore me apart slowly,
Until there was nothing left,
But the blood stained on your fangs,
And a twinge of regret you’d lament
To your next victim.
Mare Apr 2017
My sheets still smell like you
And I wake up every night reaching,
Grasping at the air for your body,
But finding only empty space
And the lingering scent of cigarettes.
love, loss,
Mare Mar 2017
There are 4 doors into my house
I count them every night before I go to sleep.
I don’t know what I am waiting for
But I know the fastest way to escape from every room.
I don’t know what I am waiting for but
I know which windows in our house don’t have screens
And I know which windows in our house lead onto the roof
And I know doors have locks and which locks lock fastest
I don’t know what I am waiting for
But I am always mapping escape routes
Even when all the doors are locked.
Mare Jan 2017
My hobbies include
Counting exits and
Taking deep breaths and
Biting my nails and
Making excuses to avoid the things
That my other hobbies
Aren't enough to get though.
"What do you do in your free time?? What are your hobbies?? Why don't you go out more??"
Mare Jan 2017
My sister says she hates living in this house
Because we don’t wash our hands and forget to flush the toilet
She is a germaphobe who falls sick more than anyone I know
She is the reason our house is more ice pack than freezer.
I hate living in the house because
They never lock the doors and they put air conditioners
In the windows that led onto the roof and limited my escape routes.
I guess both our reasons stem from our fears of dying
Except she is scared of what’s inside of her
And I am scared of everything around me.
Mare Oct 2016
When I was 20 I began to fall in love with boys who were never mine.
They belonged to other girls, sleepless nights, to alcohol and to drugs,
To classrooms and fraternity houses but never to me.
I dreamt that I could catch these boys, keep them in jars on my desk for safekeeping,
Like the fireflies I used to chase when I was little.
The first boy belonged to drugs the way I belong to poetry.
A cure for sleepless nights and private pain,
Something we do in the comfort of our own bedrooms or rooms full of strangers.
He destroyed me the way he destroyed himself,
Slowly, picking off piece by piece until there is nothing left.
The next boy belonged to her in photographs and text messages,
But to me in dorm rooms beds for fleeting moments,
It was never enough for either of us,
The guilt grew until it was too much to bear and tore us apart,
Exposing our raw edges and unfinished pages.
He was never mine to lose.
The last boy belonged to me only in the pages of my poetry
And in the dark.
He always claimed he belonged to me,
But his eyes were rested on planets far away from us.
Sometimes it feels as if I invented him, made him up like madness to torture myself.
I think of him when I look at the stars,
Beauty so powerful it will always remain out of my reach,
It will never belong to anyone, it’s much too far away.
Each boy took a piece of me when they left,
Because though they were never mine,
I was completely and totally theirs,
Hopelessly chasing them through fields with a smile on my face,
Even though, like fireflies, I only saw their lights for brief moments.
old poem (circa probably early 2014) I rewrote a little, it's rough but I loved some of the lines in here and wanted to put it somewhere.
Mare Jun 2016
Slowly.
Don’t jump in all at once, take your time,
Treat it like a dance,
Separate it into eight counts.
The time they first smiled at you,
The time they cooked you dinner,
The time they drove you home and held your hand the whole way.
Remember you are dancing alone.
Put all of your passion into it,
Make sure you are making enough effort for both of you,
Make them a bracelet for their birthday.
Do not be sad when they forget yours.
Go on as many dates with other people as you can,
All you see in other people are their flaws anyway,
So these will serve to remind you why you are so in love,
Do not fool yourself into thinking that they will love you back.
Life is not like a romantic comedy,
They will not run away at the alter for you,
They will not show up under your window with a boombox playing your favorite song,
They will not suddenly realize how amazing you are and want to be with you.
Do not cry.
Do not blame them.
It is not their fault they do not love you,
Even if they know you love them and are still sleeping with you,
It is still not their fault, nothing ever is.
How can you expect them to love you when you do not love yourself?
Smile, even when they talk about other lovers.
Smile, even when they won’t listen.
Smile, even when they ignore your whimpers,
Do not cry, it is not their fault,
Do not cry, this is your fault,
Do not cry, they warned you of this,
Do not cry, you are not worth the love you have for them,
Do not cry.
Do not cry.
Do not cry.
This is the most depressing piece I've written in a long time and it's more of a reflection now. Obviously this is NOT what to do  when you're in this situation, it's more of a reflection on how self-hatred and depression can make a person feel they're worth so much less than they are and how situations can drive people to positions they never felt possible.
Next page