Glass Wings

So you up and just disappear,

guess that’s fine—

I never liked anyone near.

It’s too much pain to lose trust,

I guess I’m just shit out of luck.

Since he’s been gone

I don’t feel like myself.

Maybe it’s grief,

maybe it’s I don’t give a fuck.

My feelings don’t matter, 

How dare I feel anything at all.

The glass wings shatter,

and I fall.

I don’t know what to do anymore.

I haunt the hallways,

I sleep on the floor.

Every echo is a stranger’s laugh,

every sigh, a mirror that cracks.

A horror house with sideways walls.

Alone under blackened skies,

nothing left but the static in my eyes.

I reach for the phone,

but the silence won’t forgive.

I’m just a shadow—

under the broken bridge

where the trolls live.

The glass wings shatter,

scatter into rain.

Every shard whispers

a different name.

Grief cuts deeper

than a razor ever did

you lose yourself,

you forget how to live.

DON’T QUOTE BUKOWSKI

Love is a dog from hell

That’s what he told me

He was an assassin on my heart 

and a suicide bomber on my psyche

“Don’t quote Bukowski, it doesn’t make you cool” 

I yelled from my cage

Every time he’d fight me

Other bitches bite me

But I come out on top

Only to be dragged out by my 

Tiffany heart chain

Still in defense 

I’d sleep in the corner of the bed

With a knife, hammer, and mace

Just far enough at the end

So I wouldn’t get pissed on again

Every morning he’d hug me

Tell me I was his best friend 

Only to be kicked in the stomach

Until I bled

That night, not so many years ago

I was pulled out of the bed

Onto the floor thrown 

Beaten, cut, my hair in his hand

Our puppy watching from the kitchen

Wondering if I was dead

When I finally came to

Months after injury

Eyes opened to reality

My cone taken off

My bite was intense

But my bark, rabid and vehement 

“Lisa Bennington-Love is a Detroit poet who writes like a switchblade—fast, raw, and unapologetic. Her work bleeds punk grit and refuses polish, tearing through themes of survival, madness, and desire with jagged lyricism. Praised by punk legend Exene Cervenka of X, for her brutal honesty, she turns wreckage into testimony and makes the scars do the talking.”