****** Mary come out of the mirror
And see me with that face of terror
Stay with me in the mirror ever fairer
So ****** a fear blossoms forever
****** Mary what have I done
Oh why wont you come
Does it not seem oh so fun
To put an end to an ugly run
****** Mary answer my query
Why am I not a worthy quarry
Why am I so unworthy
Of you turning me too a slurry
****** Mary, ****** Mary
Come to me and forever be
Last to see my eyes teary
From a dreary sob story
****** Mary don't abandon me
Like those faerie and fantasy
Hidden from reality in story's
Mary I worry your not really
More than just a story
A fun poem about a myth
i wake to the weight of your absent figure draped across the bed, the silence unbroken by your quiet snores.
i wasn’t lying when i said i honestly slept better this way, limbs curled back over themselves like fallen trees, face pressed against a cold cement wall.
you were the first boy who crawled into my heart and made it your bed, tucking your toes under arteries and resting your head in the chambers as you told me dark stories of your past.
like an ee cummings poem folded twice in my purse, i kept the image of your smile curving along my shoulder blades tucked in my back pocket, because it was the only thing that got me through sunny days.
but i didn’t know that you liked to wander between the sensitive layers of sinew and skin, leaving bruises like breadcrumbs on the memories we'd made. the pain of my phantom limbs is the overwhelming desire for your arms curled around my waist one last time.
being around you is starting to remind me that i hurt all over, but i can’t find a way to erase the stain of your words on my mind
some friends last a lifetime, and i think you’re one
i just didn’t know that to you, a lifetime is an urban legend.
a drunken toast to the first boy i trusted with my poetry
— The End —