Poetry of Stephanie Bennett Henry, Uncategorized

Winning Eternally

and I wish I could control that, get a handle on it, slam the brakes on it, but I am full speed ahead, my foot stuck solid on the gas pedal to the floor heavy. Crashing when the brakes say no and the deep breaths try to take the wheel with slippery hands praying to give up; I’m spinning. Shaking core acting like tires gone flat, exhaled and I am deflated. The burn in my throat wells up like rubber never laid on asphalt long enough to clear the smoke from my view; I am cracking. My eyes try to wipe the focus clear for the sake of my mind before I go blind as the windshield fades to black and I am winding around a corner that runs and hides; find me. This is a public display crying out to be any fucking thing other than what it is, I am nameless. My mind never looks at the speed limit here because it’s a race with my heart until one is left standing; I want to flatline. But my heart never gets the trophy for outsmarting my mind even when my chest caves in to try to take the win; I’m in circles. Roadblocks blocking the end of where I thought I needed to go to find the gears that don’t lose control; it’s endless. Chasing myself in vicious circles like a game to show the meaning of cruel; end me. This is the part where things get ugly and my eyes grow wild just to prove it; notice me. I’m not a deliberate display asking for attention, unsee me. All that I am cannot hide this accidental fire reaching from me with smoke signals pouring out of my throat for my heart like an ambulance that doesn’t want to be empty, so fill me. It doesn’t burn to touch me, I am frozen. A corpse by now still walking alive with sirens running silent from the stares that cannot resuscitate me; this is torture. Carve me into a wooden box of pine and initial it ruined beyond repair; don’t exhume me. I don’t want another go around with the empty eyes that dodge the rescue; call it. Embalm me with promises unbroken and flowers that cannot die like I did in this life; remember me. But don’t visit me after as though six feet under makes me suddenly matter; it’s too late. The flip side is where I go to find the road with those controls I never could find a handle to so I lost it. Don’t offer me a second chance to disgrace like the first; I am at peace. Resting better now than ever before with brakes that work and I finally stopped spinning. Now at last… I am on the finish line winning forever with freedom.

-Stephanie Bennett-Henry


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