Posted on by Kenna

Lover’s Lament

I am forever paying the price for all the sins you’ve committed.

You’re the one who ignored flashing lights and blaring sirens.

You didn’t care when I told you a tornado would sweep you away.

You chose to love me anyway.

The girl who will stellify you just so you can shimmer.

The girl who will build you a home out of her bones to keep you safe from the cold.

The girl who loves people so viciously they leave.

I told you I would be too much for you,

that you were a flame I would eventually snuff out.

All the good intentions in the world can’t change the fact I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

What a big heart you have!

All the better to ache for you, dear.

You wore your best stone shoes to dive into the deep end,

then you curse my name as if I’m the one who placed the water in your lungs.

And as rose colored glasses and delusions tend to do,

I somehow believe you.

I take your side over my own — over the truth.

How could I be so careless and forget to remind you not to dive into your demise?

Why did I not create a firework show of flares to lead you to safety?

Why would “you don’t want to fall in love with me, I promise” be enough?

I should have done more.

What sort of evil am I?

How selfish do I have to be to be too much, yet again, and still call it love?

There must be horns hiding underneath this halo.

Suffocating, smothering, unlovable little me.

And yet I’m still dreaming of a love I can not destroy.

Every night I beg the moon to send me a lover who will survive this minefield I’ve become.

You say I never leave well enough alone.

You say I take and never give.

You say it’s your turn to take this time.

You say you need something before I completely drain you,

then you smile as if you only have a little devil on your shoulder.

Did I take your angel, too?

You say you need to take something, so you do.

You sink your teeth into me like I am the sweetest summer fruit.

But I’m not.

I don’t quench your insatiable craving.

I don’t fill up the empty space inside your chest where your heart was meant to be.

I bleed.

I bleed and I do not apologize for it.

Posted on by Kenna

A Eulogy for Love

I fold my feelings up and hide them in a box under the bed.

You send yours over like ammunition when it’s 2 am.
When you’re drunk.
When you miss me.

I unfold my feelings, drag them outside, and watch as flames engulf them.

You leave 17 different messages on my answering machine.
You say the same thing 17 times.
Somehow you make each time worse than the last.

If I told you I had something to say to you I know you would pick me apart bone by bone until you found it.
You would crack my ribcage open and help yourself to anything inside.
You have never known boundaries. Even when I paint them bright blue along the walls.

You want to conflate into me and take everything I have.
As if my time wasn’t enough.

When I start to bloom you pluck the petals like you’re trying to find out if I love you or not.

The hole in my wall is the last gift you ever gave me.
When it’s late at night and I lie wide awake, I look into the hole like it’s a window.

Inside I see everything I could have had if I didn’t let you drown me and call it love.

My phone won’t stop ringing.
And I hate you for making me want to answer.

I watch the screen fade into the color of the night sky.
Light floods into my room.

I love the smell of the earth after it rains.
I hope you love the smell of love after it burns.

Posted on by Kenna

How to Unwrap a Memory

Yankee Candle’s ‘Black Sand Beach’ .

A chorus of crickets, accompanied by bats and cicadas. 

The curtains, sheets, and duvet covers all managed to catch me staring. 

The crackling of the single flame.

The whistling of the wind. 

Did you remember to bring your things? 

Sticky fingers and ice cream cones.

Vanilla covering my cuticles as if the sweetness would save us.

Fireflies judged us through the blinds.

Peeking in at the injustices we kept close to our hearts that we called love.

Did you forget we called it love?

My tongue doesn’t have to move.

It keep secrets hidden where they took out my wisdom teeth. 

My hands shimmy, shake, twist, and dip. 

Remember when Shakira said her hips don’t lie?

Yankee Candle’s ‘Flowers In the Sun’

I pick a sunflower on my way home everyday. 

You like to put sunflowers in my hair. 

A picked flower will die. 

The truth hurts less when no one knows it. 

Did you remember to take your things?

I want some things you can not provide for me.

Smoke circles around my house after I forget the oven is on. 

Again.

Burnt cookies do not smell like baked ones. 

I would say Yankee Candle’s ‘Christmas Cookie’ 

But Yankee Candle doesn’t have a scent for this. 

Smoke alarms scream high pitched pleas.

Metal scraping against metal. 

Hands hitting the hard wood floors. 

If you hand me a match I promise to douse this house in gasoline.

Something is always burning. 

The smell lingers.

Smoke seeps into the crooks of your collared shirts.

It nests inside my fingernails. 

I washed my hair every day for a week and it still smells like burning down our bridge.

That scorched and menacing perfume is the only reason we still remember each other. 

Can’t you smell it?

Posted on by Kenna

Breaking up with Loneliness

I have spent countless nights drinking whiskey and tea with you. You have held me so tight I can not always breathe. I used to love suffocating underneath your wings. Now you have me petrified to even sleep. If I close my eyes I will slowly fall away. Would it be a sweet release? Would it be agony? Can we have one last drink tonight? I already have your favorite bottle picked and ready to pour. The tea is steeping in the quiet, lonely kitchen. I could close my eyes tonight and let death kiss me sweetly asleep. I bet she tastes like butterflies and stolen dreams. I have never tasted something that inspiring before, except for the lips I still long for. Is it freedom? Entrapment? How do I plan ahead for the change? Will my pain go to someone new? Will they choose to dance with loneliness too. I remember days with you, skipping down grocery store aisles and dancing on table tops. Loneliness has treated me well. Eighteen years have come and gone and we have known each other for them all. I have not known someone as well as I know you. This is a fire. This is the flame that has lasted too long. I will take my water waves of words and drown you this time. I believe that death will taste of a million lost memories and dreams, but tonight is not the time I need to find out if I’m right. This is not the end I wish for. I do not want to stop yet. I’m sure one day I will find myself on my bedroom floor writing to you again. But for tonight, I have to say goodbye. You have held my hand too tightly. My fingers ache. My pinky is broken and I do not have anymore promises in me. I’m sure I will meet you again one day. But for tonight I need to be alone. I need to grow alone. I need to learn to love drinking whiskey and tea alone. The world is mine, and mine alone. This relationship is not a martyr, but instead it is a thief. You have stolen me from me. I miss her. She used to belong to me. I will reconstruct my world piece by piece until I find her. This will be the end of an age. This is the ceasing of a fever dream. We are fire, and we are darkness, and we are done.

Posted on by Kenna

Pseudo-Me

I get migraines in my dreams.

I mean, pseudo-me gets migraines when I sleep.

She breathes when I no longer wish to breathe.

She’s tethered to me,

her limbs go limp when I sleep.

I didn’t ask for company.
I was comfortable in my lonely.

Pseudo-me smiles when I cry.

She laughs until her eyes go blind.

We’re not the same at all.

We’re more like enemies.

My limbs go numb when she sleeps.

She’s tethered to me.

I breathe when she doesn’t wish to breathe.

Pseudo-me gets migraines when I sleep.

I get migraines in my dreams.

Posted on by Kenna

Colors.

I met you on July 4th.

The fireworks went off above our heads,

our faces flashing

red

blue

green.

The fireworks went off before we got the chance to.

One.

You accidentally ran the red light, and they didn’t see you coming.

I will never forget the sound of the glass crashing.

Red covered the seats.

I think I heard my arm break,

or maybe that was my heart.

Maybe I knew.

Two.

I sat next to your hospital bed for days.

Weeks.
I only left when they forced me out.

They told me I needed to say goodbye, that sitting here wouldn’t help you.

I yelled.

I cried.

I sat in silence.

I haven’t slept for three days.

When I blink I see you,

blue.

Three. 

I lay underneath our favorite tree.

My eyes watch a cloud in the shape of a starfish.
I read once that starfish link tails and stick together.

I’d like to think that’s what we’d do.

I let my eyes fall shut,

and all I feel is

green beneath me.

Posted on by Kenna

Nature Song

And in case you didn’t hear the wind’s whispers,

I told them to tell you that I love you.

And in case the trees didn’t pass on the message,

I told them to tell you I mean it.

And in case the river forgot to mention,

You can reach me by whistling a tune.

And in case the birds didn’t twitter,

I’ll keep an ear open.

And in case the sun didn’t remember,

I will fix your broken heart.

And in case this melody never reaches you,

I hope the nature does.

Posted on by Kenna

To my Lover, the Clouds

The clouds shape shift slower than you do.

They love me longer than five seconds at a time.

I lay in the grass all summer long and watch them come and go.

I say hello to new lovers,

and goodbye to the old.

I lay next to you all winter long and watch you come and go.

I fall asleep next to you

but wake up alone.

I’d like to thank the clouds for keeping my secrets.

And while I’m at it I’d like to tell them one more.

Sometimes, when you slip out from between the sheets,

I roll over and take your place,

just to convince myself that side of the bed isn’t empty.

 

Posted on by Kenna

Swallowed Whole

She used to lay on the sand, let the waves surround her.

Now they swallow her whole and drown her.

The tides have grown monstrous, their arms encapsulating her,

forcing her to breathe them in.

She’s getting swallowed whole,

by what she loves the most.