Serving students and faculty since 1971

This poem, by Maggie Bachler, was the winner of the poetry category in our Love Stinks writing contest.


She does not love me, no not at all

She does not care, whether I fade nor fall

A cold, cruel succubus; her kiss never gazed my lips

I drank a cup of poison and, unfortunately, I live

In an internal suffering, the sweet juice was so comforting

A salty, soured, to be devoured

Jewel I find, I want for mine

Soothing touch, it shuddered to come

Never was mine, though it was refined

It was a devil, or demon I could not harness

And so for that, I drew the carcass

Out of a cold, chilling after nighmare

For which I could not awake, I swear

The grave burnt deeply, the grave burnt bright

Our of a shuddering, sinister delight

It heated in me, so effortlessly

A strong resentment I did not want to name ‘jealousy’

For you, for me, I wish them well

But another part is bruised and swelled

For while she was fair, I was scared

And while she was confident, I was unaware

How he stared at her, to love her so

I threw myself on pity’s grave that hid my woes

And there I died; a part of me inside

I know I could not win, there was nowhere left to hide