mackenzie-elise - Hello Poetry

I have a crush on you and I haven't met you I don't want to meet you But I want you to fall in love with me

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Jan 26, 2016

Jan 26, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC

mackenzie-elise

penchant for u

I have a crush on you and I haven't met you I don't want to meet you But I want you to fall in love with me

4

we grew apart and back together, days and then weeks and then years our friendship as tumultuous yet predictable as the waves are to the shoreline friends and fights and boys passed us by as we gripped hands tightly ..mostly to your dismay you were never the type to need a sidekick I was always the type to be one our relationship a fragile flame always on the verge of flickering out for good but we kept it alive just barely through these past few years apologies and soliloquies mostly on my part entitled forgiveness on yours giving you the power to push me down just a Little bit further every time

0

Jan 21, 2016

Jan 21, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC

mackenzie-elise

flicker

we grew apart and back together, days and then weeks and then years our friendship as tumultuous yet predictable as the waves are to the shoreline friends and fights and boys passed us by as we gripped hands tightly ..mostly to your dismay you were never the type to need a sidekick I was always the type to be one our relationship a fragile flame always on the verge of flickering out for good but we kept it alive just barely through these past few years apologies and soliloquies mostly on my part entitled forgiveness on yours giving you the power to push me down just a Little bit further every time

30

I was so nervous to meet you Double and triple checking my reflection in the mirror Making sure I was who I thought I was. Who you wanted me to be. Mind abuzz with anxious questions What if he doesn't like me? What if What if What if You called me, you're outside Heart fluttering with the excited madness Id grown to associate with talking to you One last glance.. Coating my lips with pink deceit I stepped out the door Stepped out to your eyes on me Vulnerability radiating through the blush in my cheeks .. What if You made me comfortable with your shy smile and raspy voice You made me laugh teasing the insecurities from my soul so effortlessly. At the time I was amazed at how well you did that. Not even thinking that it had less to do with your humorous demeanour, and more to do with my own brightness my willingness to see the best parts of you. I wish you'd done the same for me. I felt like myself with you. I felt good. Safe within my bones. For once I wasn't taking up TOO much space. For the first time in a long time I was just enough. I could feel the heat rising through my body, but instead of pushing it away, I basked in it Instead of avoiding your persistent gaze when you said "I just want to look at you" I let you look. Only barely wondering if you liked what you saw. I thought you did. You seemed like you did. You were a good actor. Back at my place and you're making me laugh at my pathetic inability to drink beer at a respectable rate My mind is only half on what you're saying. I can't help watching the way your lips stretch over your teeth as you speak. I can't help wondering what you taste like. I'm in the middle of a sentence and in a spontaneous gesture of boldness you grab my head. kissing me. hard softness practically devouring me. You tasted faintly of bubblegum and the beer you were so playfully teasing me about Kissing you felt as easy as breathing. And almost as necessary. You matched my shyness step for step. Tentatively exploring that intimate part of me. Sampling my soul just as much as you were the minty tang of my lip balm. Absorbed in your touch My mind was quiet Exquisitely free of that question What if I could feel your breath sending shivers across my skin long after you told me goodbye. Told me it was a pleasure meeting me. I believed you. Stupid girl. As seamless a transition as snow melting into rain. you stopped talking to me. Stopped with your sweet nothings. Stopped with your charming wit. Why? Because I wasn't what you thought. You told me this when I finally mustered the courage to ask you what was wrong. We don't talk anymore. But I still sometimes can't help wondering If you had taken the time to get to know me flor who I was instead of the arbitrary image of what I looked like to you Would things be different? If you had asked yourself What if.

0

Jan 12, 2016

Jan 12, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC

mackenzie-elise

What If

I was so nervous to meet you Double and triple checking my reflection in the mirror Making sure I was who I thought I was. Who you wanted me to be. Mind abuzz with anxious questions What if he doesn't like me? What if What if What if You called me, you're outside Heart fluttering with the excited madness Id grown to associate with talking to you One last glance.. Coating my lips with pink deceit I stepped out the door Stepped out to your eyes on me Vulnerability radiating through the blush in my cheeks .. What if You made me comfortable with your shy smile and raspy voice You made me laugh teasing the insecurities from my soul so effortlessly. At the time I was amazed at how well you did that. Not even thinking that it had less to do with your humorous demeanour, and more to do with my own brightness my willingness to see the best parts of you. I wish you'd done the same for me. I felt like myself with you. I felt good. Safe within my bones. For once I wasn't taking up TOO much space. For the first time in a long time I was just enough. I could feel the heat rising through my body, but instead of pushing it away, I basked in it Instead of avoiding your persistent gaze when you said "I just want to look at you" I let you look. Only barely wondering if you liked what you saw. I thought you did. You seemed like you did. You were a good actor. Back at my place and you're making me laugh at my pathetic inability to drink beer at a respectable rate My mind is only half on what you're saying. I can't help watching the way your lips stretch over your teeth as you speak. I can't help wondering what you taste like. I'm in the middle of a sentence and in a spontaneous gesture of boldness you grab my head. kissing me. hard softness practically devouring me. You tasted faintly of bubblegum and the beer you were so playfully teasing me about Kissing you felt as easy as breathing. And almost as necessary. You matched my shyness step for step. Tentatively exploring that intimate part of me. Sampling my soul just as much as you were the minty tang of my lip balm. Absorbed in your touch My mind was quiet Exquisitely free of that question What if I could feel your breath sending shivers across my skin long after you told me goodbye. Told me it was a pleasure meeting me. I believed you. Stupid girl. As seamless a transition as snow melting into rain. you stopped talking to me. Stopped with your sweet nothings. Stopped with your charming wit. Why? Because I wasn't what you thought. You told me this when I finally mustered the courage to ask you what was wrong. We don't talk anymore. But I still sometimes can't help wondering If you had taken the time to get to know me flor who I was instead of the arbitrary image of what I looked like to you Would things be different? If you had asked yourself What if.

74

"You look like you want to kiss me" "I do" "....Well go on then" I lost track of the kisses you gave me Over those 2 days But I never forgot the first Your chin at my shoulder Breath of free tequila misty on my cheek Curve of your smile Minty tang of lip balm Blurry faces all around Only seeing you Lips brush Tongues dance Softly sampling Colours flash Music courses through Only feeling you

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Jan 12, 2016

Jan 12, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC

mackenzie-elise

Only You

"You look like you want to kiss me" "I do" "....Well go on then" I lost track of the kisses you gave me Over those 2 days But I never forgot the first Your chin at my shoulder Breath of free tequila misty on my cheek Curve of your smile Minty tang of lip balm Blurry faces all around Only seeing you Lips brush Tongues dance Softly sampling Colours flash Music courses through Only feeling you

18

You led me to the exit My hand clasped firmly within yours Clearing a path for us Through the sea of bodies As though keeping me safe Was your only job description You held the door for me A gentle reminder That chivalry is alive and well Taking me home Decidedly Confidently No trace of the mind games I've come to expect As the golden elevator doors closed With each passing level My insecurities fell away like leaves So that when the gold melted away And you softly asked me If I was sure You knew beyond a doubt That I was You recognized the walls I'd built And then you set upon your task Of knocking them down Pinning my hands to the bed You sampled me brick by brick Making sure I knew That you liked what you tasted As I began to settle into you You took a hammer to my flaws Sent them scattering Shattering years of self doubt Imploding my elaborate castle of fears And ever so effectively Crumbling It to the ground

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Jan 7, 2016

Jan 7, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC

mackenzie-elise

Gold Doors

You led me to the exit My hand clasped firmly within yours Clearing a path for us Through the sea of bodies As though keeping me safe Was your only job description You held the door for me A gentle reminder That chivalry is alive and well Taking me home Decidedly Confidently No trace of the mind games I've come to expect As the golden elevator doors closed With each passing level My insecurities fell away like leaves So that when the gold melted away And you softly asked me If I was sure You knew beyond a doubt That I was You recognized the walls I'd built And then you set upon your task Of knocking them down Pinning my hands to the bed You sampled me brick by brick Making sure I knew That you liked what you tasted As I began to settle into you You took a hammer to my flaws Sent them scattering Shattering years of self doubt Imploding my elaborate castle of fears And ever so effectively Crumbling It to the ground

36

I can't be certain when it happened. The day the moment or the year. I suppose in the end it doesn't really matter The outcome will inevitably be the same I wish I could somehow go back and change the script erase a few lines here, cross out a chapter or two there redefine my story Streamline it to be just how I imagined I always admired it when I saw it that way it has of turning a person into brightness the light you just can't help but notice As if a thousand stars are twinkling relentlessly just beneath their skin I swear I had it too one moment I could feel the steady pull of it pulsing through my limbs burning me on the inside you know the kind of heat I mean the kind that walks that fine line between pain and pleasure like you're staring into fire that you can't help be mesmerized by.. still knowing that at any moment you could turn your hand to the cheerful crackling and feel the deceit as it bleeds angrily into your skin. It burns in that satisfying way of a just healing sunburn across your shoulders tender and raw enough that you can feel every ounce of your vulnerability But you can also feel your resiliency. your ability to heal And it reminds you of how the torched sand felt beneath your shoulders And all you can see is the sun on the back of your eyelids like a desert of fire the stretches the span of a lifetime And suddenly it doesn't seem so bad It's not important what it came from back when it was this fragile, breakable thing What's important is the twisty sinister path it took to get there It could have been my naivety my refusal to acknowledge as my vulnerability turned so eerily into a condescension that dripped like honey from an equally naive paw But here's the thing, our lives are only a series of moments. One moment, or a thousand, that have the potential to change your life, if you let it. Flashbulbs exploding constantly. Light so dazzling that if we took the time to stop and examine the endless possibilities within each one, we'd almost certainly be blinded. The problem is that each moment is so easily forgotten or misimagined. Neatly packaged away and efficiently lost in the trenches of time. Like I said. I don't know when it happened The day the moment or the year but I know what it felt like and I know it's worth it.

0

Sep 19, 2014

Sep 19, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC

mackenzie-elise

IT

I can't be certain when it happened. The day the moment or the year. I suppose in the end it doesn't really matter The outcome will inevitably be the same I wish I could somehow go back and change the script erase a few lines here, cross out a chapter or two there redefine my story Streamline it to be just how I imagined I always admired it when I saw it that way it has of turning a person into brightness the light you just can't help but notice As if a thousand stars are twinkling relentlessly just beneath their skin I swear I had it too one moment I could feel the steady pull of it pulsing through my limbs burning me on the inside you know the kind of heat I mean the kind that walks that fine line between pain and pleasure like you're staring into fire that you can't help be mesmerized by.. still knowing that at any moment you could turn your hand to the cheerful crackling and feel the deceit as it bleeds angrily into your skin. It burns in that satisfying way of a just healing sunburn across your shoulders tender and raw enough that you can feel every ounce of your vulnerability But you can also feel your resiliency. your ability to heal And it reminds you of how the torched sand felt beneath your shoulders And all you can see is the sun on the back of your eyelids like a desert of fire the stretches the span of a lifetime And suddenly it doesn't seem so bad It's not important what it came from back when it was this fragile, breakable thing What's important is the twisty sinister path it took to get there It could have been my naivety my refusal to acknowledge as my vulnerability turned so eerily into a condescension that dripped like honey from an equally naive paw But here's the thing, our lives are only a series of moments. One moment, or a thousand, that have the potential to change your life, if you let it. Flashbulbs exploding constantly. Light so dazzling that if we took the time to stop and examine the endless possibilities within each one, we'd almost certainly be blinded. The problem is that each moment is so easily forgotten or misimagined. Neatly packaged away and efficiently lost in the trenches of time. Like I said. I don't know when it happened The day the moment or the year but I know what it felt like and I know it's worth it.

42

awake. gazing out across the sparkling city skyline some ten stories above where I imagined I had left my carefully constructed common sense I had felt it falling away as the elevator carried us higher and higher.. towards what I wasn't sure but I swore I could feel it taking my insecurities along with it, littering the ground with layer after later of things I supposed I wouldn't be needing tonight... The blazing fire of your gaze across the small space confirmed my suspicion.. eyes voraciously shattering the last of my anxieties into oblivion. breath. holding it just as you held my hand.. Leading me through the sliding balcony doors a minty breeze assaulting my senses tickling my face as I felt your lips on the back of my neck tongue teasing any remaining tension from my shoulders until all that was left was want shivers. the same kind you sent zinning down my spine as you pushed me back against the railing fear of heights forgotten in the dizzying high of your breath in my lungs laughter from the streets below reduced to a soft whisper as you explored the once unknown planes of my body. listen. to the whispers of our clothing as they fall from our skin littering the floor just like my long forgotten common sense. feel. Your lips Your hands Your mouth Oh god your mouth. Spiralling me further and further away from everything I knew before you alive. walking back to my car a cool wind as rude as a shot of cold water upon my skin Reality Insecurities common sense Awake.

0

Jul 17, 2014

Jul 17, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC

mackenzie-elise

Alive and Awake

awake. gazing out across the sparkling city skyline some ten stories above where I imagined I had left my carefully constructed common sense I had felt it falling away as the elevator carried us higher and higher.. towards what I wasn't sure but I swore I could feel it taking my insecurities along with it, littering the ground with layer after later of things I supposed I wouldn't be needing tonight... The blazing fire of your gaze across the small space confirmed my suspicion.. eyes voraciously shattering the last of my anxieties into oblivion. breath. holding it just as you held my hand.. Leading me through the sliding balcony doors a minty breeze assaulting my senses tickling my face as I felt your lips on the back of my neck tongue teasing any remaining tension from my shoulders until all that was left was want shivers. the same kind you sent zinning down my spine as you pushed me back against the railing fear of heights forgotten in the dizzying high of your breath in my lungs laughter from the streets below reduced to a soft whisper as you explored the once unknown planes of my body. listen. to the whispers of our clothing as they fall from our skin littering the floor just like my long forgotten common sense. feel. Your lips Your hands Your mouth Oh god your mouth. Spiralling me further and further away from everything I knew before you alive. walking back to my car a cool wind as rude as a shot of cold water upon my skin Reality Insecurities common sense Awake.

36

I wrote to you last week. All pathetic and full of angsty yearning. Pouring my feelings for you onto the page; bleeding inky tears my eyes were and still are too stubborn to cry. I told you that I miss you. That just like a plague, the thought of you relentlessly pushes it's way into my days. Into my head. I know when you read my words you felt triumphant. Powerful even. Like my affinity to write about you only proves my weaknesses. That my failure to get over you proves just how hard I fell for you. You wrote to me last week. A love letter? No. There was a time when I would have answered that question with my eyes. A hopeful glance, wet and shiny with the tinge of unrequited love. But no. Your words bled manipulative deceit across the screen. Page? No. You've never been that eloquent. That blatantly romantic. Except when you were.. For me. One of the things I loved about the idea of you. I can still feel the butterflies fluttering furiously in my stomach, heart racing as I read those words for the first time "I love you" But how depressing that I read them. I didn't hear your sweet voice whisper them into my ear, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I read them on a harshly bright screen. A bright screen that assaulted the stark darkness surrounding me. Safely tucked away beneath a pile of blankets. Alone. So in love. And so alone. My days consisted of daydreaming of the life we would have together. The perfect life. One that I desperately and furiously convinced myself was inevitable. So close to tangible that if I reached high enough or hoped hard enough for, I could feel my fingertips brush the curtails of that exquisite illusion. Because my love, all that we ever had was a beautifully perfect, wonderfully magical idea. Full of enchantment and potential. It hurts even now to think about what we lost. But how can you lose something that you never had? I can't understand it. We were a shade of grey flickering insubstantially next to the kaleidoscope of colours that is reality. I wish I had a letter from you. Something I could hold next to my physical being. Something that can't get lost within the trenches of cyber space. Wind maybe, but baby I would clutch it too close to me, it would never, could never, fly away. I want something to hold against my heart. To be able to trace my fingertips across the indentations of your pen. I'm jealous of that pen. Of it getting the chance to be grasped within the comforting softness of your hand. For taking the place of my hand. I want something to prove that I had you.

0

May 21, 2014

May 21, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC

mackenzie-elise

Beautiful Delusion

I wrote to you last week. All pathetic and full of angsty yearning. Pouring my feelings for you onto the page; bleeding inky tears my eyes were and still are too stubborn to cry. I told you that I miss you. That just like a plague, the thought of you relentlessly pushes it's way into my days. Into my head. I know when you read my words you felt triumphant. Powerful even. Like my affinity to write about you only proves my weaknesses. That my failure to get over you proves just how hard I fell for you. You wrote to me last week. A love letter? No. There was a time when I would have answered that question with my eyes. A hopeful glance, wet and shiny with the tinge of unrequited love. But no. Your words bled manipulative deceit across the screen. Page? No. You've never been that eloquent. That blatantly romantic. Except when you were.. For me. One of the things I loved about the idea of you. I can still feel the butterflies fluttering furiously in my stomach, heart racing as I read those words for the first time "I love you" But how depressing that I read them. I didn't hear your sweet voice whisper them into my ear, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I read them on a harshly bright screen. A bright screen that assaulted the stark darkness surrounding me. Safely tucked away beneath a pile of blankets. Alone. So in love. And so alone. My days consisted of daydreaming of the life we would have together. The perfect life. One that I desperately and furiously convinced myself was inevitable. So close to tangible that if I reached high enough or hoped hard enough for, I could feel my fingertips brush the curtails of that exquisite illusion. Because my love, all that we ever had was a beautifully perfect, wonderfully magical idea. Full of enchantment and potential. It hurts even now to think about what we lost. But how can you lose something that you never had? I can't understand it. We were a shade of grey flickering insubstantially next to the kaleidoscope of colours that is reality. I wish I had a letter from you. Something I could hold next to my physical being. Something that can't get lost within the trenches of cyber space. Wind maybe, but baby I would clutch it too close to me, it would never, could never, fly away. I want something to hold against my heart. To be able to trace my fingertips across the indentations of your pen. I'm jealous of that pen. Of it getting the chance to be grasped within the comforting softness of your hand. For taking the place of my hand. I want something to prove that I had you.

48