Poetry of Stephanie Bennett Henry, Uncategorized


The way I fall and manage to keep throwing punches at myself is brutal. Maybe brutal is too subtle to describe the massacre between my heart and my mind, I never learned how to do things halfway. I am all the way in or walking away with a big fuck you laced in my shoes and I don’t look back. So when I go down, which is often, you can count on me to kick my own ass while I’m down there before anyone else can. Even on the days when my heart says one thing and my mind takes the stage to debate the opposite, I let it pull me apart until I am ripped in half. Because why not? There’s an easy way, but I prefer the long route of everything. You feel it more when you take the long way. Breathe in every mile until your bones are made from that moment, forgetting will be impossible, it’s like a scar on the inside. Rip it open whenever you please and feel it again and again and again.. however many times you want to or how many times you can take it before your bones crack open with the reminder of that time that hurt, the time that always will. I take the cracking because I walk down memory lane quite often just to feel the pain one more time. I analyze it with different scenarios in my head and I’m triggered with questions that will never have answers. It scorns me. But I remember the pain to study the lesson. There always is one. I’m a quick learner but slow at catching on sometimes to subtly and mixed signals. My heart and mind only have the antenna that picks up the signal of just fucking tell me without fucking around with the bullshit, I always pick up a clear picture in the honesty. Even if it hurts, go ahead. It’s going to hurt anyway so what’s one more? I am not made of porcelain. I won’t shatter from what someone says, but I will turn myself into a tornado that never stops spinning to make sure I destroy myself first. My heart says, go fly, beautiful one, while my mind waits with a chainsaw of no. I have a competition going to make sure the only one who can hurt me is me and I’ve been winning most of my life, so stop training to come for my title, I’m keeping it. My heart looks like it took a beating from another universe, but I take the credit for all the bruises that scarred it shut. I am proud. I can’t put my breaking in someone else’s hands; I’m bloody. Knuckles twisted and ready for more, I am hardened. Tried to soften myself once but the world told me no. So I became a stone and I wear it on my face to be sure anyone who sees it understands I am cold. Don’t try to warm me unless you are burning in the flames of the proof. Otherwise you’re lying. Even if you’re burning in front of me, you are probably still lying so put yourself out, the smoke is killing me and I took the screens down to let the mirrors burn. That’s right. I read the faces of pretenders and I’m not playing along. You think you’re a joker and I’m the fool but I will be your fool just to show you I can’t be beat at my own game. So pick me for your next experiment of another notch in your belt, I will hang you from the strings of my own heart and call you a trophy.

-Stephanie Bennett-Henry


3 thoughts on “Fighter”

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