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Mackensie Jack Jan 2015
sometimes i watch you,
wonder how you got to look like you do.

how many different you’s there could be
hold that soul
that way
but not quite like that.

and when wrinkles crease
around your clever lips
and crows feet sprawl
beside your galaxy eyes,
when silver claims your hair
(when all the wisdom shows,
when we’re finally old enough to be wise),

i will love you,
your old soul buried
in all this flesh.

i can’t wait until
we are renewed
and we get to find
each other
again.
Mackensie Jack Jan 2015
because you started
a hurricane inside my
head and then you left
Mackensie Jack Jan 2015
You, Sweet Sunshine,
are difficult to escape from--
as if I would ever want to--
but You make my words incohesive,
my breath just a sigh,
even and especially
when our boat tosses about this way.

I’ve traveled the world
from that passenger seat of yours.
And I’ve seen Hell with my own eyes--
it’s an empty cup, empty mind,
and empty bed.
Too much, not enough for this solemn,
crazy head.

The Most Genuine Poetry
I have ever had the pleasure to read
has been below Your eyebrows
while You sleep under turning irises.
I’ve been much deprived these past few months.

Apologies, as my interests have
recently been revived.
Those metaphors still line my sheets
where I used to tell my pillows we were
Adam & Eve.
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

— The End —