Devastated shoulders

can’t tell if the trembles are yours or mine
all darkened
slipping your hands through my hair
marking marking marking
show that the veins are yours
pale milky green drifts around you
little bunny watches itself
take off
plunging into the moss
can’t halfway
letting off a sign
whispering summer in my ear
you sit down at your desk to start reading
a new manuscript
printed today
$4.79
the red light presses through the beads
an acoustic mood
make you the perfect night
so tomorrow holds on
bringing soft boiled eggs
toast and wine

it rained two days before our wedding

always three
always always always
like that
both of us do that

sometimes when the emotion
flows from the open jar
a slight obsession
having to define breaks
only kind of lying
but definitely lying
so they don’t all hate you
now that it’s past midnight
we’re getting married tomorrow

you read the backside of the page
on a separate spot of the table
always picking up on my littlest
feeling that we are
and at last realizing what people feel

it’s not real of course
our marriage
it’s an excuse for free alcohol
but I’ll still call you my wife

crawling into bed
rolling over the milky soft green
that comes in from outside
brought along by the cold and the rain
placing the camera to watch
and getting down on one knee
not surprising
you took note of the time we were supposed to meet
5:30

you sit crossed legged in the bath
rolling over the soft milky green
this time doesn’t feel so easy
I imagine you’re stressed
for a second I thought
that the cardboard I cut with a knife
was falling apart

hiding my poems
like a gun
beneath my leather jacket
so the green cold rain doesn’t ruin my words
the manuscript
all annotated with your words
there wasn’t really
a turning down
slip the robe into the water
hasn’t been washed,
not a whole lot of distinction
there is some certainty
but not all the time,
the earrings stuck between the lampshades
our rings left on the desk
because we need clean fingers
washing ourselves in the lake
wax covers the floor, my fault,
whispering
about whose name
and how black a dress
ask me ask me ask me

a childish repetition of words
clenched eyes
seething
our minds pass together
mouthing I love you
and the open drawer
all lost in shadows of the pages
and stiffness of words
as they press into your skin
eating and leaving marks
so many little bruises
always saying it looks like you got in an accident

propose to her five days after you first see her cry

time really floats around
says she’ll knock out
but never does
worry about me
but a little green,
I’m not so fragile

the crucifix passes between our lips

smells of rain and cum
etching a little arrow in
hoping the process is seen
but all so fast all
in just a few weeks
now it doesn’t seem so young
less fleeting
now no if licks the dust off my fingertips
I’ve forgotten how much grime gets beneath nails

you close your eyes and see the darkest black vase
you’ve ever seen
and they dance around but you can’t
for they match the void
a soft beating
wine stain on the bed
looking purple and green in the eye
and letting the starving
set like the amber sun

a many a break
counting freckles
making the squirms more frequent

how should
the feeling
tell me
the words
that you

the flickering candle
throws itself in the green soft pond
becoming slightly translucent
just as the flame goes out
our rings are displayed
and our engagement will only last two days

impromptu
playing with your jewelry
a title to break it up

it’s not a dance
I never finished rewinding the tape
spring feels worldly

it’s not done

we look so rough
and your hair is all over the counter
always wake up just before the alarm goes off
playing armageddon in the cafe
black helmet black helmet black helmet

throw yourself over me
the distance can’t be met
a purgatory between our bodies
only emerge from our red

look emotions in the face
if you look consciousness in the face
it stops making sense
all fragmented feelings
leading with and toppling over
you’re my reminder of the real world
forgetting you’re another person
pressed together and the little licks
i hope hope one day that hope will still be there

words come out through like apparitions
flitting in and out
maybe if I don’t write them down
they I get I they I get out of my head

I love you for noticing all this

I think

scribbles waiting for saturday
a destruction of
who this is
who is this
scribbling out the blue pen looks grey

you know
the shoes in the closet
no more back staircase
I tie the string on your tea around the handle so the paper doesn’t fall in the cup

that what?

the tea’s been cold
forgetting the drink
what you’ve been given
to sit and listen
sat the chair
always back
sways back and forth in the breeze
unburdened
setting the camera down on
a step
and proposing
a little burden for you
my words
listen to you
and you listen to my racing heart
all taut with words and saying
forgetting to ask the question
but you’ve known since yesterday
now I want to do nothing
but lie
lost in the folds of your bed
you stick a hand out and pull me in

stiff
side by side
the rosy looks
and luna hears the cry
intonation
lose lost lost the words all fall out
pretending to try
pretending to try
neither can sleep
don’t listen so hard
I’ll kiss you on the forehead
wrapping my arm
pushing prodding away
let me
feel the not so stiff
thinking wrong
the rose wraps around my finger
letting me off with a hiss
                                      kiss (?)
                                      hiss (?)
                                      kiss.

Henne is an established spoken word poet from New York City. At just age 18 she has received two Poets & Writers grants, been featured in over 10 journals and published a book of poems, Starry Eyes, All Bright from Crying. Released in 2020, it explores lesbianism, drug abuse and suicide. Her second volume of poems will be released Summer 2021. Henne is currently studying art history at Smith College.

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