The Blooming

Stephanie Bennett-Henery blooms in poetry.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

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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