PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Super Mario


Every time I think about it I just remember,

About those cold lonely nights, back last December.

No, you don’t want to get me started,

This is a story about the time she left me broken hearted.

She said she loved me and she acted like a lady,

But she was childish and honestly, really kind of crazy.

I thought we connected on a level only reachable in games,

But she played my love like it was Super Mario, only just a game.

Start off slow on World 1-1

The first month we started talking, before I thought she was the one.

Going through the motions like we were training for a fight,

Going through those motions to make sure I’d treat her right.

Slow rolling, and going, picking up speed more and more,

Our first major battle came on World 1-4.

Trapped in Bowser’s Castle was my princess behind the evil,

Except she didn’t see me as the good, she saw me as the evil.

Arguing back and forward about how I ‘held her back,’

False statements about how I wouldn’t get off her back,

Like I was an anchor tied to the mast, lost in the water,

Stuck in the sand, lodged between rocks, rusted from the water.

And as if it were the eye of a hurricane,

The storm came and gone without a word,

No more rain or wind, made me feel insane,

Why didn’t she want to have the last word?

World’s 2-4 came and went like a blur,

At the end of each phase a new argument would occur,

Over something small and petty and usually unimportant,

Hell, all I wanted to do was to make that girl feel important.

But she played my love like it was Super Mario, only just a game.

I thought we could connect on a level only reachable in games.

But she was childish and honestly, really kind of crazy,

How could I mistake this girl for a grown, smart lady?

After all this time, I still remember how she left me broken hearted,

A story that I still don’t want to get started,

So, I sit out those cold lonely nights in December,

Try not to think about it, don’t want to remember.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.