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MaKenna Oct 2018
I was waiting for that burn but it never started a fire.
December’s hands are tangled in my hair, tugging on my roots. Reminding me that she’s still eminent in my skin cells.
I want to rip open your chest and massage your heart with my calloused hands till it starts pumping blood again.
The temperature is dropping inside you at alarming rates.
You mimic winters piercing cold.
But darling it’s only autumn, let’s watch skeletal trees lose their leaves.
Let’s watch the sun set into evening.
Let’s perform an autopsy on pumpkins as if taking its insides out could make up for the blackened scar tissue growing around our bones.
The universe in you yearns for the galaxy in me.
Our stomachs are full of all the words we’re too afraid to tell each other.
I’ve pretended to go mad in order to tell you things, because in the midst of the chaos I can show a shred of honesty.
I promise I’m getting better.
My mouth tastes like a graveyard but yours tastes like sunshine.
Your skyline eyes outshine mine.
When people ask how you became a wreck you never tell them I was driving.
Gas petal floored and burnt out headlights, flying down a darkened , dead-end street.
I promised you if you stepped foot in my chest again, it would not crumble.
But the foundation is damaged and there’s cracks and crevices where your love seeps in.
I’ve spent the last few months wondering if I was the one who dragged you into the water or if I was the coast guard who saved you from the tides.
There are no words for the way the blood seeps out onto the cold tile floor, or for the way the room seems to suffocate itself when we’re in it.
I promised myself I wouldn’t turn you into a poem.
You’ve relinquished your hold when I needed it most but you always end up caving and I always end up breaking.
And here we sit.
And here my bones are brittle so you caress me softly and ever so sweetly.
And you remind me it’s okay to be scared of the tides but to step foot in the shore because the water will wash away our sins.
So blessed be.
Here’s to you and me.
I love you.
For Matthew, with all my love
MaKenna Sep 2018
Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 ******* years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.
MaKenna Sep 2018
When I was little I used to be scared of everything.
I swore there were bloodstains on the coffee table.
One night my grandma saw me fist fighting in my sleep.
You can’t forget the traumatic things.
It haunts me in my dreams.
My mother did the best she could.
I don’t blame her. **** happens and you roll with the punches.
My father never said he loved me enough.
I used to sit by the front door waiting for his headlights but once again, another no show.
He loved the liquor more than me.
I don’t blame him.
Because now I do too.
I wish I could fill the white spaces with something wholesome, something sweet.
But by now the pain has become another layer of my being.
I’m formed with bad habits tied into my heartstrings.
Like the bittersweet taste smeared across my gums and in between my teeth.
And I can’t help but look in the mirror and ask myself, “who were you before the world made you cold?”
My mother says I was the empathetic one.
As long as I can remember I’ve been living life on the run.
Hiding from myself, stuffing, suppressing all emotions.
I used to know what it was like to drown but now I steer clear of the oceans.
I used to tell myself that I swallowed that water instead of drowning but my lungs just grew accustomed to breathing underwater.
I lost my virginity when I was thirteen to a man who was much more stronger than me.
He would press my face into the sheets, making it seemingly impossible to breathe.
He’s the reason why I started drinking.
I’d love to feel that burning sensation crawling down my throat into the pit of my stomach.
It hurt less than the nights he’d creep into my bedroom.
I used to sleep in the closet.
It took years of therapy to break that habit.
I won’t ever let the fear of him seep into my bone marrow again.
It’s like the word UNLOVABLE is tattooed on my inner thigh.
I wish people came with warning labels.
I wish my mother could see the signs before he laced his body with mine.
But I don’t resent her for it.
It’s not her fault.
And if you ever ask me if I regret anything I’ll say no.
Because all of this molded me into the person I am today.
Some days it’s hard to keep the bad thoughts at bay.
They swim in my waters making the currents hard to stand against.
But when the world is falling apart around me I refuse to crumble.
Because I am strong.
And I still choose to believe that most people are good.
I refuse to be cynical.
I refuse to let the bitterness hide in my small intestine.
I won’t let the enemy win by making me cold again.
I am warm sunshine, I am the feeling of sand between toes, I am celestial.
And I will associate myself with the word strong. I will take that to my grave.
Because I refuse to be defined by anything less than brave.
MaKenna Jun 2018
Crush my lungs and steal my breath, you’re only the blood pulsing through my veins. There are no words for the way the blood seeps out onto the cold tile floor.
I guess maybe it was all a game to you, a deck of cards. You sat there with your poker face on, still intact no matter the cards I played. I raise and you call. **** it, I guess I was never good a placing bets.
Your name is branded on my lips. I try to purge myself of your existence but you still remain. Caught up in my tendons, heart strings and all.
You can’t see my broken heart and river run tears forming fountains of seas between you and me. But each time you tell me to leave, a piece of me dies and withers away. Eventually there will be nothing left so I’m begging you to choose your words wisely because your tongue is a sword ripping through my spinal cord, Breaking my stance. Baby won’t you be my crutch?
My lungs are tar black and my heart is crimson red. I’ve lived my life in violent indigos, but you were my first taste of a yellow hue.
Loving you feels like driving fast, exceeding the speed limit, gas pedal floored, unlocked doors, passenger airbag off, busted headlights and no seatbelts. It’s an adrenaline rush. I can feel my heart racing by the grace of your touch.
You remind me it’s okay to slow down.
But the pain knows no borders.
It’s all adrenaline,
All chemicals and no impulse control.
I wish there was a way to
You knew just what to do to make me beg for you.
You and all your callous words, taking shots at my bruised soul.
It’s much worse than broken bones and a ****** lip.
I crawled into the chambers of your chest, built up a wall and barricaded myself in.
There were always two sides to you.
One was scarlet red and the other a deep, dark blue.
I could never cut cut the cord between the two.
I convinced myself I was just seeing double.
My heart's been broken for a love that lingered on and off for 7 months but never seemed to survive a week.
And even though we collided like atoms in Einstein’s dreams,
It doesn’t excuse the way you tore my heart strings.
I no longer know you from the distance of an arm's length.
Because the past 4 days have been spent burning bridges and building walls.
You were the first one to shimmy your way into my chambers, muscle and veins.
You said you liked the view from brown eyes and how they look like honey when the sun hits just right.
But I was always falling into your ocean eyes.
I lost myself in the tides.
I became background noise.
I couldn’t think of me without thinking of you too.
But you always said I didn’t think enough.
Loving you always felt like a privilege but you made it feel like a chore.
And I could never fight the constant urge to scream.
MaKenna Jun 2018
I watch the fire in your fingertips singe my skin and I pray you don’t smash the illusion I’ve made- that flesh looks more beautiful when melting by your touch.
You’re embedded in the chambers of my heart, you’re sinking into my veins- replacing the blood in my body. You are the marrow in my bones.
You’re always calm and collected, I am a ball of rage and anxiety bursting apart at the seams. You can try to sew me up but I will fall apart.
                                                 I will fall apart.
Your eyes, a piercing blue. A certain hue when the sunlight hits just right. And I drown in those ocean eyes. Swept away by the tides. Drowning in your waters, I feel fine.
MaKenna May 2018
I’ve ran out of beautiful ways to say I love you.

Rumor has it every poem I write is about you and how I get swept away in the velocity of the ever-changing emotions you throw at me.

You’re always in two places at once but I swear last night I held all of you in my arms and I swear to God the whole time I was thinking that this is the part of the magic trick where you disappear again.

You’re always fine. And I’m always sorry. Baby, excuse me if I cut you with my tongue, I’m always drunk off fermented words these days.

He said I have to stop living a lie and I told him I’ll try but I’ve been dishonest since before my time and I’m not sure if I can give up the fight.  

You always try to cover your tracks when you lay out your feelings. Like a corpse you want to be rid of. You can wash your hands of the blood, but you can never wash them of the crime. Darling it’s ok to be vulnerable at times.

Everything was once subliminal messaging and warning signs, now you don’t have to read between the lines.

See, I’ve lived my life on the run but for once I wanted to be caught. So I slowed my pace and you won the race. The battle is over. Our mangled hearts can slow and begin another tempo in perfect harmony.

Baby this is it, you’re the masterpiece and I’m just an art thief.
MaKenna May 2018
I can remember the words “Don’t leave me” spewing from my mouth as you grabbed your wallet. As I heard the jingle of your keys.
I was never the girl who asked someone to stay. Not till you.
I was always pushing and shoving people out the door. Slamming it shut on their fingers, hearing the crunch of their knuckles as I locked the deadbolt.
My forte was leaving people behind.
Living on the run.
Loving for fun.
My mother left my father because he drank too much. She said she loved him but she could still feel the ache in her tummy as he pushed the couch to it when the two pink, parallel lines showed up on that stick. And there I rest, in that same tummy. My fingernails barley formed. My heartbeat slow. Not a hair on my head.
The strongest thing she could do for us was lock the deadbolt behind him. When he took the money, and the car, and that case of beer that tore them apart.
See I’m not strong enough to lock the deadbolt behind you. I will always leave the lights on, the welcome mat outside my chest will always hide the key to my heart. You know just where to find it.
I can’t leave you behind.
Because you’re my first taste of love.
So bitter, so sweet.
You bring out my greatest adversaries.
Everything I hate about me.
The things I try so hard to push to my subconscious.
You lay them all out.
I was always prone to flight in times of strife.
But with you I want to fight.
And I will fight till my knuckles are ****** and my knees are bruised.
I’ll fight for you till I’m black and blue. And I will keep fighting.
You are every hope,every promise and every reason to keep going.
I will sail your uncharted waters and even when the tide is high, and the waves are pulling me under. I will swallow that water instead of drowning.
For Matthew
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