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  Oct 2019 Mikayla Smith
The fungi has started to grow again,
coming from inside, rotting within.
My eyes scan the room from left to right,
there's nothing interesting,
anywhere found in sight.
I remove myself to explore and play,
into the forest I go, around midday.
As I wander and wonder,
my thoughts twist around me, causing a fluster.
All of this just because of,
some guy.
It's not your normal fungi,
it's the kind that if you touch it,
it will rot you from your delicate finger tips
to the very light that is your soul.
The kind of fungi to ruin your night.
So as I lie here, accepting my fate,
that evil demon comes creeping,
to smile in my face.
I'm all too weak to continue on,
finally letting go of myself, collapsing like a fawn.
My skeletal remains,
shimmer in the sun-
reflecting light like the barrel of a gun.
It's hard not to notice that toadstool right there,
growing from what would be my hair.
The fungi still loves to decay,
what was once me
  Oct 2019 Mikayla Smith
she was as cold as the winter
            full of frost and bites on her delicate skin
            always wearing a scarf bearing cold colors
            but she is as intelligent as the raven
            and her potential is to not be underestimated
he was bright as the summer
            a ray of sunshine that his heart has captured
            his eyes as warm as the trees and the earthy soil
            a goofy smile and a cheesy laugh he can hold
but they both wondered to themselves
            from a distance of a single season that separates
            and puts them apart
            ‘what is love with its warmth and frost’
through the frights and scares
            and the hope of light at the end of a roller coaster ride
            to the seemingly never-ending valley of lilies
            and through the glaciers of darkness
that’s what love holds for us
            it is heaven or hell or whatever it is
            a paradise worth finding
            or a purgatory waiting in chains
it is a letter full of something
            or maybe even nothing at all
            chocolates and daisies?
            forget about it
the season that separates the wondering opposites
            it is the fall of the two for the other
            it could be the literal fall
            or the ‘falling head over heels’ kind of fall
love does not matter on your gender
            nor does it matter not on your preference
            it just matters that you have someone to count on
            or maybe even a shoulder to cry on
it is like the aroma of a coffee bean
            the scent so attracting yet when tasted
            you may or may not decline it
it is also like the essence of vanilla
            sweet and innocent
            but will be missed when it is gone
love is like when you’re the toothpick
            seemingly strong and firm at first
            but with a snap
            you can easily fall to the merciless ground
it is sentimentality
            a chemical defect found on the losing side
            for not throughout this journey
            will you always find peace among the storms
it is the range of numbers from zero to ten
            for the happiness, as all emotions do
            may fade away due to the negativity
it is the whisper of students among corridors
            soft but can easily be caught
            full of gossip or full of truth
            but I could choose to believe neither
            because that four-lettered word
            made people less of what they once were
love, it can break you
            yet, with such irony
            it could mend you
            and it would be the person who destroyed it
            who would come back
            to make you feel whole again
no more holding hands in the hallyways
            or even deserted places
            that seems to be ‘romantic’
            for these are just creepers
            and things could flip upside down
with just a snap
all those things they say about love
            not all of them could happen
            from written words of our imaginations
            to the writing of it onto parchment with our pens
            it is what we wish to happen
for this world could ever be so harsh
            to the bad but especially to the good
            that we find another way to escape from it
and so summer and winter never met
            never did they cross their boundaries
            for the cycle of the seasons
            is like love
there would be battles won in the frost
            a dose of happiness in the spring among birds
            the moodiness of both in the hot summer
            and the transition and neutrality that autumn gives
for even love
            must be known to have its routine.
  Mar 2018 Mikayla Smith
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
  Mar 2018 Mikayla Smith
E. E. Cummings
Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you
Mikayla Smith Feb 2018
On this January day,
my heart was broken.
I didn't cry or ask myself why,
I simply mourned the words left unspoken.

How I gave him my all,
But he gave me nothing at all
Except empty promises that he was never going to leave
But isn't that what you get when you wear your heart on your sleeve
And believe every ******* word he says?

I'm not mad, maybe a little sad,
But no big deal.
I've been on this battlefield, before
But I thought this time it was real,
But I lost who I was in his eyes
That still glow gold in sunlight
And those memories burn like the blade
That I put to my skin last Thursday
But he wouldn't pick up the phone,
Never leave a suicidal girl alone
She might drag you down into her black hole
And apparently that's what I did,
Lies spewing from my lips
That I was fine
But tell me why I went outside
"Alive" by Pearl Jam in the earbud jammed into my eardrum,
Screaming at the sky.

It felt surreal as I watched the clouds pass overhead,
Finding a new appreciation for colors that once seemed like a black and white dream
That I'd never see again,
You drained me of everything I once loved,
Claimed it was all in the name of love
But I don't think you know what that means
Because love to me is balanced,
It doesn't make you feel weak
Like you made me to be.

Was I fool? Yes, I admit.
Do I regret letting you in? Yes, I admit.
Do I see your face in the sky? No, I don't.
I see it when I close my eyes like if I stare too long it'll be imprinted in my brain forever,
I should have never brought you to my favorite places because your shadow will always roam behind me.

That's why I'm looking to the sky,
I haven't taken you there yet
And I'm glad because if you were there then I would spend the rest of my life looking at the ground,
And I just can't.

I can't pretend that I'm fine,
I can't pretend that the next few months when I wake up I won't miss your snoring or your imploring of what my nightmares were about,
Come to find out that you were the demon haunting them,
For my fear of abandonment always wins
Because you left me with a pocket full unrequited misery
And looking up into the depth of the sky to repent for my sins,
The sin of loving you even after you hurt me,
That this isn't some twisted dream,
It's reality, which makes it harder to put myself back together again
While you shut me out and I'm living in my head,
I wish you would have just left me for dead instead of numb,
But that's not always how it goes,
I've got your ghost for now,
However, mark my words,
Years from this point I'll be the last thing you think of before you fall asleep
While the image of you won't even occur to me.

I screamed at the sky today,
"Alive" echoing in my ears,
Those unspoken words finally said,
Now in the clouds where they belong.

I'm staying strong.

I screamed at the sky today
And for once,
I think I'm going to be okay.
Written in the aftermath of my first real heartbreak.
Mikayla Smith Jan 2018
I lit the world on fire,
watched it go up in smoke,
smelled the scent of ashen rose,
passion decomposed,
and dared to question the purity of the oxygen,
but I swallowed my tongue,
secrets like cigarettes,
one puff and I’d choke.

This pyromaniac who stole a match,
he set my heart ablaze,
but he didn’t have water to put out the flames,
so I burned and burned,
he didn’t say a word.

I never liked to destroy,
rather create with my mind,
but I had a habit of falling for ne’er-do-wells,
putting myself through hell,
all for fulfilling an aching void where my heart once resided,
so I took his things that he left in the wake of the flame.

His favorite shirt,
photographs that harbored painful memories,
a thrifted teddy bear left in the dirt,
and all the poems I wrote―
doused in kerosene,
lit on fire,
and I watched it go up in smoke.

Meet the pyromaniac’s demise,
I am the water putting him out,
keeping the embers dancing about for myself,
leaving him to die in a scorching wasteland,
now he understands when I said that I was just as capable of destruction,
just because I didn’t hurt people the way he did,
I had my own ways of making my presence known,
in the aftermath of this warfare,
I walk out of it alone,
watching from the mountains as our world goes up in smoke.
Mikayla Smith Nov 2017
Two broken hearts can make a whole
if you just believe for a little bit that
miracles can happen and
those pieces always
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