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Mary Christopher May 2014
There once was a man and a girl
Alone in the world,
Both almost forgotten.

But one lonely night,
He only did sight
The girl alone at the bar.

Her eyes matched the stars
As he came from afar.
He joined that girl,
And they twisted and twirled
Both without a thought.

The forgotten man almost forgot to say
The one reason he never looked away.

It could have been her eyes
That shined as if they were stars.
It could have been
The way she looked at his scars.
It could have been the way they danced and didn’t think,

But the one true reason he couldn’t look away was
She was quite a vision in pink.

Mary Christopher Apr 2014
And our love is like a suburban tree,
Rooted in dog ****,
Smashed through concrete,
And struggling every day to survive.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
I wish I could hate him
I wish he could fill me with a fiery desire
To eat his heart out,
Chew it up
And spit it to the ground

But that was last year
That was the boy who I always hated
The one I convinced myself I loved
Because I hated him so strongly

This boy is kind
He is good to me
And everyone else too
So when he doesn’t reply
Or makes me feel unwanted
I don’t even have it in me to feel angry

But I am angry,
Just not at him
Because how could I ever be?
He is the boy to put his arm around his mother
While picking up his brother
And holding him close

But that anger is still there
And I struggle every day
To find someone to be angry at,
But at the end of each day
The only person I’m left with
Is me.

So when a few ask
Why I don’t love myself
I tell them, “It is because I’m in love.”

Usually when I state this fact
They look confused and turn away
But if they were to listen a bit longer
They would hear me say,
“But he doesn’t love me.”

Mary Christopher Apr 2014
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
Take a deep breath.
Keep breathing.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
What am I going to do
When the only reason I was breathing
Was you?

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
It's Friday the 13th
And I don't know what to do.

The only place I want to be
Is right there next to you.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
I want to go
And keep going

To never look back
And always keep moving

Forward and forward
Feet on the ground
And never ever have to turn around

But I simply can’t
I must stay here
Filled with hope and filled with fear

But someday I might leave
Go far away and never return

Thats the only hope
That gives my fire a burn

Mary Christopher May 2014
Hurt is a beautiful thing.
It’s a collage of broken memories.
It’s visible, yet no one sees.
It’s a swirl of mixed emotions
And full of lost devotions.
It’s almost pain, but not quite there,
Yet still, it’s more than I can bear.

Mary Christopher May 2014
I can't help it
The evil I'm drawn to

It pours out of me
Like hot coffee
Energizing and burning
Flowing and covering
Everything in its path

I can't help that
No matter what I do
The evil inside me
Is drawn to the best parts of you

I can't help the fact
That I hurt you
It's simply what I do

I feel like you should know better
At least by now
After all we've been through

If you think I've changed
That will never be true
The evil inside of me
Will always be drawn
To the good inside you

Mary Christopher May 2014
I hate every little thing about him,
But I'm drawn to him in a way no one can deny.
He sees me for what I am,
And I see him for what he is,
And we are both horrible
In the most beautiful way,

And I don't want to say
Something like opposites attract
Because it is overused and has lost its meaning,
The very definition of cliché,
But for some reason
This is the phrase that represents us best.

We are complete and total opposites,
And I hate the things he says
And the things he does.
I kind of wish I could punch him in the face,
And maybe someday I will,
But for now I must be content
With saying I love him.
With every essence of my being,
I love him.

God knows why,
And maybe God doesn't even know why.
I sure don't.
But maybe that's what's beautiful about us,
Him and me.

It's just that fact
That neither one of us knows why
When I look into his eyes,
I can't help but feel my face burn with passion,
Burn with hatred,

And maybe that's what love is.
You hate someone so much it makes you crazy,
And the only way to be sane
Is to get back at him in the best way
To make him fall in love with you,
And you with him.

The only way to calm the hatred
Is to **** it, after all.

Though it never truly dies.
It's always there,
That burning feeling
Of him just under your skin,
And maybe that is the phrase's true meaning.
It's not the annoyance we all take it to be,
But that burning sensation
I feel when he turns his hazel eyes to me,

And now I know,
Without a doubt,
That no matter how much I hate him,
I will always and forever more
Love him and everything he is.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
I love you.
Were you not aware??
Every time I think of you, I smile everywhere.
Every time I think of you I smile,
And every time I smile I think of you.
So basically, I’m always smiling
And I’m always thinking of you.

Quite a life isn’t it??
If only you knew.
Maybe you feel the same way I do.
I’ll never know because I’ll never tell

The way you make me feel whenever you’re around,
When you’re beside me
When I can feel you breathe
When I see you smile
When I look into your beautiful eyes
When I hear your laugh from across the room.
I don’t know if I can stand not to tell you soon.

But there is no way,
No way I’ll ever
Because of the things they’ll say.
Maybe you’ll disagree,
But I know you’d laugh anyway
Because they’re your friends and you must.

If you don’t laugh they might soon know,
And if they knew
I don’t know what I’d do.
I’d have to suffer through whatever
They’d do or say to me,

And I know that if they knew I’d never
Be able to be with you the way I want to
Because you listen too well
And you trust them too much,
Which is why I fell in love with your trust and your touch.

Mary Christopher Apr 2014
I took a step back
And took it all in,
Looking at this scene
As if it were a movie on the big screen
Projected up for everyone to see

And not until then did I realize
This is not my life anymore.
However much it used to be me
However much I want it to be
However much it used to mean to me
Simply does not matter
And I fear it never will again.

It's a twisted sort of funny
The way something can mean so much to you
But at the same time,
You can leave it all in an instant.
That was my life,
The scene I am standing here watching.

It's so strange,
Being on the outside.
I've never seen things this way before.
I guess that is part of leaving the past behind,
Leaving that part of you

And after you leave it
It begins to change
In ways you never could have expected,
But there is nothing you can do
For you are on the outside
Looking in on what you used to know.

And I guess this is when it hit me hardest,
Watching these people,
That maybe I was never a part of this,
Maybe this was never a part of me
For if it had been, if I had been,
Would they and I not feel a loss?
One of those holes you feel
Deep down inside of you.

I don't know what I was then,
But I was obviously never them,
For that hole is not there.
I don't feel its presence at least

And still, even though I am quite aware now
That they do not miss me
And I do not miss them,
I still feel something,
An indescribable feeling.
It's not pain but it's not happiness.
It's that in between that I've been feeling quite often lately.

I'm not sad that I left this world behind,
Nor am I happy.
I am indifferent to this world in the most emotional way possible.

I can't describe it,
But it is there.
I feel its presence eating slowly away at my soul,
But I could never even hope of explaining myself
But here I am anyway,

Mary Christopher Aug 2014
I understand
I understand why you chose her
Just look and you’ll see
She’s so much more than me

She has everything
Hair so soft
And eyes so blue
And all she wants is you

So go
Find your way
Leave me here
And never turn away
From that girl who can’t take her sapphire blue
Eyes off of you

I’ll be okay
I’ll be alright
Lying in my bed
Alone at night

Sure, I’ll think of you
But I’ll always know
I did something right
Letting you go.

Mary Christopher May 2014
I walked by a boy this morning
And I couldn’t help but think
Maybe we could fall in love someday,
But obviously that day is not today
Because I went on to my next class
And he went to his.

But if you’re reading this
I just wanted to let you know
I’m still waiting for that someday.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
I wish I could say
That poetry comes easily to me

But I don’t live in a place where poetry is born
Where there is a small café
Down the street
And all you think about
Is how to make ends meet

No I don’t live in a beautiful town
With chattering people all around
I live in a place of soccer and school
Of long-lost dreams and neighborhood pools

I live in a place that many dream of
Where one’s only worry
Is if their house is clean enough

But I want to live
not play soccer and go to school
I don’t want to worry about how I’ll be cool
I only want to leave
And never return
To this city where my dreams
Have crashed and burned

I want to live in a place where poetry is born
Where people dance on the streets
Not for fun, but to feed their children
And with a man on the road who stands on his feet
With a cardboard sign
saying he has nothing to eat

I want to live in a place where I can help
I guess I just want to live in the real world
Not a protected neighborhood
With security and safety
But rather a place where life is tasty

And the next day is never the same
As the one that just passed
And you’re caught wishing these days would last

Mary Christopher Sep 2014
If you love the leaves
I am winter

If you're full of songs
I am silence

If you love the rain
I am the desert

If you are the good
I am the evil

If you are beautiful
What am I?

Mary Christopher Apr 2014
It hasn't even been a week
Since I saw him last,
But it feels like a lifetime;

However, when I take another look,
It feels like just yesterday,
A dazed and far-off kind of yesterday
As if I saw him in a dream
Just last night.

I saw him standing before me,
And he was really there
Until I opened my eyes
And rubbed out the sleep
Only to realize,
Him, oh him, I will never keep,

But just last week
I kept him and he kept me
In that dazed, far-off kind of dream.

Most dreams aren't real,
But this one had to be
Because I can still feel the way he looked at me.
Those brown eyes turned to me,

And I could feel them piercing my soul,
But never deep enough to leave a mark.
He was in my soul, but left it untouched,
So why does my soul feel so eternally touched?

I know he had no intention,
Not even the slightest,
Of making a home in my soul,
So why do I feel a fire lit in the fireplace
And footsteps on the floor?
Why do I hear the rocking of a chair?
I know he can't be there

Because I never let him in,
Never opened the door
To the house deep inside me.
I never let his feet hit the floor

Because I knew he would leave muddy footprints
That not even the best maid could clean,
And I would be left with a ***** floor
And an empty house,
An unlit fireplace
And an abandoned chair,
Still rocking ever so slightly
Just to remind me he'd been there.

Mary Christopher May 2014
Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care.
You never did and never will.
That’s what I live for baby.
Those words in that voice
Screaming out “Don’t you see?!”

Look me in the eyes and say those things to me.
That’s what I want.
That’s what I need.

Don’t pretend you care,
Or that you’ll always be there.
I know you won’t.
I know the truth,
Even if you don’t.

Just say those little things right in my ear,
And give me a reason to end this all here.

If you don’t, I’ll just go on
The same old way I always have,
Living like this
With the tears and the slits.
That’s what I live for baby.
That’s how I live with this,

Knowing you don’t care,
You never have and never will.
Well darling, that’s enough to ****.

Mary Christopher Sep 2014
I'm not so sure
I believe in fairytales anymore
They're so far-fetched,
Finely etched
Into tombstones of color

My mother used to tell me
I'd be loved someday
But that could never be
I mean, just look at me

Sitting here
All alone
Constantly checking my phone
Knowing he didn't call
Knowing he never will
But wanting it so bad, it's almost real

Prince Charming took one look
At my face full of grief
And decided that was enough to leave

He found another girl,
I'm sure of it.
How could he not?
He's so full of it
Telling girls he's the only one
Their fairytale has finally begun

And they believe it too
Until it ends of course
He gets bored
And leaves
Or finds someone better
And leaves

Either way
Prince Charming ran away
And I'm left with
No hopes
No dreams
Not even fairytales
To put me to sleep.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
Her hair smelled of salt and fruity shampoo,
A strangely pleasant mix of the two.
Actually everything about her seemed pleasant,

Her silky black hair
And her freckles all over her newly sunburnt skin
That pink glow came from her skin just as it came from her lips
Her feet digging in the sand
As someone grasps her hand

But no one notices him
For she is a beauty beyond compare.
She loosens her hand to run it through her hair.
She begins to get up, the hesitates.

There is a look, undefined, I just couldn’t place.
I know what that face could be
Because now I see that same face on me.
It is hard to explain, hard to define
That face that appeared on both hers and mine.

But again as I sit, seeing this girl
She has gotten up and is beginning to leave.
She sees me looking and smiles at me.
It’s one of those empty, meaningless smiles one gives a stranger.

That’s what we were then, don’t you remember??
When your hair still smelled of salt and shampoo
And your smile still faded when I looked away from you.

Things got better.
That boy is gone.
It took you a while, but you moved on,
Moved on to life and moved on to love
And moved on to that smile you give out of love.

Your smile has changed from that first day.
It is no longer empty and strange in that way.
Now it means much more than words.
And now sitting with you, hand in hand,
You smile down at your newfound best friend.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
What am I ever to do

When even my Plan B
Does not choose me?

Shall I be left alone
To face the world
One step ahead the rest?

Or shall I take a step back
And trail behind
Watching others’ happiness?

He, oh he
Was my Plan B,
But even he
Hurt me.

So what am I ever to do?
(I wish I could say this is new)
Me, I don’t have a clue…

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
The Queen of Hearts
Lives in a castle of broken hopes and dreams
And as she lies on her bed of memories
She has one of her own

She remembers back to the day
Her own heart ran away
It was stolen and never returned

The King of Thieves they say
Was the one to take her heart away

That is why, to this day
The Queen of Hearts
Takes others’
The hearts of others who still have them

If it wasn’t for the King of Thieves
That one summer-turned-fall
With falling leaves
The Queen of Hearts might give her heart away
Instead of taking others’ for prey

But the King of Thieves had his own story to tell
It is one of mystery and dark streets
One of sorrow and relief

He stole the Queen’s heart
To give to his thieves
So that they might one day believe
That this is not how it’s supposed to be.

Mary Christopher Oct 2014
They told us we must go
It's the opportunity of a lifetime
They said
But how do they know?
Do you see them here?
Among the empty stares
And crowded stairs
Do you see them here?

So why do we all feel
Like we brought them?
They're here with us
In our minds
Filled with equations and Latin translations
And these people
They are there too, aren't they?
Seeping into our thoughts

We don't want them there,
But are they the only reason we're here?
We tell ourselves we came
To get away from them
But I think we all came
To bring them with us
To show that even though we are gone
There is where we belong.

We are all out of place
So out of place, in fact,
That we fit together perfectly
Like a puzzle
Each piece a part of a different picture
But shaped to fit each other
Redefined cookie-cutter children
That's what we are

The dough of our minds
Has already been sliced
But everyone tries their best to be different
So they paint pretty pictures
To display what is inside
You are holding my brush
What do you see?
Redefine me.

Mary Christopher Jun 2014
I wanted to be the one who saved him
And maybe that’s the saddest part,
That I wanted to save him
But failed.
I kept trying, but I never could

And I know that’s kind of horrible,
That I didn’t want him to be himself.
I wanted him to be someone else

Someone he wasn’t
And never would be
And never could be
Even if he tried

I wanted him
But I also wanted someone else
So I tried to make him be both

But of course I failed
Because each of us
Has only one life to live

So if someday
He becomes someone he’s not
I will know

And I will hate it
Because now I realize how beautiful
His own self really is

And I would never wish him to be someone else
Not now
Not anymore

Because I am me
And he is he
And that’s all we’ll ever be

And knowing that is a strange sort of beautiful
That not even the best writer could put into words.

about a friend of sorts...
Mary Christopher May 2014
Her name was Summer
And she had a fire burning inside of her
That no one could make flicker.

Her name was Autumn
And her hair glistened red and orange
As it fell across her face in the most beautiful way.

Her name was Winter
And when she turned her ice blue eyes to you,
A chill ran down your spine and you felt those feelings
You’ve longed for for oh so long.

Her name was Spring
And after the tears streamed down her face
Flowers began to bloom in her soul and she found herself in their petals.

My name is Mary
And I am none of these things.

Mary Christopher Feb 2015
I'm drowning
In the American Dream.
Everything here
Is not what it seems.

Is it your dream
To be shot on the street?
Is it your dream
To not be able to breathe?

This is what we are.
This is where we are.
This is some American Dream.

So stand with me,
Raise our hands.
"Don't shoot."
We say.
But what does that do?

As long as the guilty walk free,
And the innocent can't be,
We are stuck in this American Dream.

Please get me out.
Take me away.
This is a nightmare.
Hold your breath,
And raise up your hands,
And pray to God
That man won't shoot.
Is this all we can do?

Mary Christopher May 2014
The most beautiful thing in the world
Is how someone can go from being your heaven
To being your hell
Without a second thought.

You don’t give me a second thought,
But I give you millions.

Mary Christopher May 2014
Tick tock of my heart
Waiting for my life to start.
Tick tock all alone
Lips to teeth and skin to bone.

I just want to be content
With how I live and living’s rent.

Maybe by the day I’m laid down
Six long feet underground,
My eyes full of wonder, I will see
How beautiful life can really be.

Mary Christopher Apr 2015
Wind in my hair
Fingertips grasp for the sunlight
through the looking glass
All of these places (empty spaces)
and all of these people (blurred faces)
are so beautiful to drive by,
but will I ever want to stop?
Mary Christopher Oct 2014
This place is already tainted with memories of you
I've only been in this place for a few weeks
But already, I find it hard to breath
Thoughts of you come to me
Just walking around
On this hallowed ground

And I imagine life with you
Life without you
How different those two things really are
These few acres
Of tear-stained concrete
Would be empty
If I did not know
That you too
Were walking on these grounds
If not beside me
Then near me

Each blade of grass
Each flower
Each fallen leaf
Each ripple in Each puddle
I see around this old place
Is now infected with the virus of your heart
Never again to recover
Only to slowly wilt
Until nothing is left to see
And it's only you and me

Mary Christopher Dec 2014
We let each other in over Facebook message. It seemed so important in the moment, but some piece of me knew that once we got back to school, it would all be forgotten. We talked about things like our tiny opinions made a difference, like we had some insight into the world that others had yet to discover. How big we thought we were, how shining, how important, in that one little moment. But eventually our brains ******* our hearts and reeled them back in. Our small, insignificant hearts were no longer kites flying in the winds of change, but rather just broken pieces of people among billions of others living on a planet among others circling a star among endless amounts of others, and we finally realized that our minuscule ideas about the world would be lost in no time at all. Even we would be forgotten, and that doesn't even have the space to be sad. Sadness implies a sort of importance that we lack.
Not really a poem, just a thing I wrote

— The End —