Stephanie Bennett-Henery blooms in poetry.
Call it whatever makes you feel good
for turning away from the mess
that I finally grew into. I own it.
Took me this long to finally fit into
the misunderstanding of my own eyes
and the way my heart beats much
deeper than the surface of a view that
can change colors when no one’s looking.
I have never stopped looking. But I’m not
looking back to twenty years ago.
I am the twenty years ago.
And you don’t see it.
Nobody sees it.
Have you ever lived a life where time stops
and never starts again?
The clock is broken.
Calendars blacked out.
It hurts to stand still
but the running… the running takes me
in a circle to the place when the clock
is still ticking and it’s loud.
I hear it. It rips through my heart
like my eardrums are busting open
and the blood in…
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