• Neon Mariposa Magazine

3 Poems by Dani Marty

Sleeping with a ghost

You came to me like a midnight thunderstorm. Sweet rain smelling radiant while chaos broke

atmosphere. Your eyes deep pools into my soul. Light flickered across skin and for a moment

your heart spilled into my hands. I saw you that night. The you hidden from the rest.

You poured into me. Water from a pitcher, cool and sweet. I sat drenched and trembling. Your

sweet smell lingered on the pillow. The only reminder that it was not a dream. Grasping air never felt so cold.

Velvety smooth skin, a memory. A flash, lightning in a bottle, and gone just as fast. I

remembered you weren't there a second too late. Tears accumulating on cheeks. Weaving

tapestries through pores. I could have sworn you brushed them aside, just as I drifted off to sleep.


You are the puzzle I'll never be able to solve.

Pieces scattered through the couch cushions.

Edges worn and missing before I even had a chance.

Echoes of past puzzles.

Both of us etched of the same pliable wood.

Half finished, almost there, only to crumble again.

I do not want to admit that you'll never be whole.

Your pieces were never mine to bind and keep.

Until you admit where you hid the corners, you'll forever be my work in progress.

I'll save what is left in a little sack.

Ready for when you share the rest.

One with Darkness

If I give up, will you stay? Crawl into the hole with me and wallow. Be the blanket of comfort

around my hedgehog spines.

If I run away, will you be my shotgun? Pick the playlist to our new life. Help me stay awake

while we keep going. No real destination, except "gone."

If I say I want to end it, will you make a pact with me? Poison to escape. As if Romeo and Juliet

were not young, dumb kids. Maybe they were in the right. Dramatic perhaps, but no longer

trifling with the insecurities of life.

If I cry on your shoulder will you pet my hair? Tell me everything will be alright and lie to me.

Squeeze me tight until the sobs become whispers.

If I disappear will you look for me? Missing person on a milk carton. Calls to the authorities.

Detective in an instant, as if another could be the embodiment of Sherlock Holmes.

I'd go to the mountains. Breathing the crisp air. A little escape. Never meant to become forever, but the stream was so cool. The camp fire warm, inviting in the way this world never could be. I'll find a cabin, fill it with soft blankets and cinnamon. I'll miss you, but I can't go back.

If you find me will you forgive me? Pretend everything is fine. Marvel at my damp tomb.

Rotting leaves, smelling faintly of cinnamon. Water dripping down my eyelids, the camp fire

gone out days ago. Tell my story like I didn't give up.

If I ask you to be mine, will you love me at my darkest or only in the light?

Dani Marty is a native New Mexican who grew up in Albuquerque, but spent the majority of her childhood with her grandparents in the Jemez Mountains. She enjoys hiking, playing soccer, drinking wine with good friends and creating. She is a tattooed, colored haired, self-proclaimed“weirdo” and enjoys the compliments she gets about her tattoo work. She was part the first high school class to offer letters in Creative Writing, and, very likely, the last. She helped edit her high school Literary Magazine and continued taking creative writing and poetry classes in college. She describes her writing style as “word vomit” eloquently pieced together and does not generally share with others. She has been published in Neon Mariposa Magazine.

33 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Two Poems by Kenneth Pobo

DULCET TONES ON GETTING AHEAD SOMEDAY I’m in my pajamas at 3 in the afternoon. I haven’t showered. Maybe I did a few days ago. Dishes in the sink form an army to overthrow me. I should be overthrown.

Two Poems by Akin-Ademola Emmanuel

HOW TO LIE TO YOUR MOTHER If the words are too heavy to let into mom's ears Or perhaps if it would douse her smile with tears & clench Her tooth in agony. Resort to the garden & chew bitterleaves with

Home by Kateri Ransom

My home is miles away from my home. The four walls I grew up in, that trapped in the heat, and played music when we cleaned, and danced after Friday night movies, and served Eggos on frosty school mor

©2018 by Neon Mariposa Magazine. Proudly created with

This site was designed with the
website builder. Create your website today.
Start Now