Adena M'lynn's Voice

By Adena M’lynn When the night feels heavier than my heart can hold, I close my eyes and there you are— I imagine your hand folded into mine, steady, sure, sharing a strength that feels like home. I don’t need much. Not grand speeches, not the world’s applause— just the warmth of a hello, the soft weight of “How are you?” and the quiet balm of “I was thinking of you.” You mean the world to me. Not the pedestal type.  But the comforting kind, in the moments when my soul shivers, I find my way back by imagining your hand in mine— and— I can breathe again.

by Adena M’lynn When I become the sunrise, I’ll paint your windows gold so even the darkest night can’t convince you it’s forever. When I become laughter, I’ll hide in your pockets and tumble out at the exact moment you think you’ve forgotten joy. When I become a tree, I’ll grow wild branches that bend just enough to let you climb higher than you ever thought you could. When I become rain, I’ll wash the dust from your shoulders, turn your sidewalks into rivers, and teach you to dance without music. When I become tomorrow, I’ll arrive with open hands, a calendar not yet written on, a promise that anything— everything— is still possible. And when I become hope, I won’t knock. I’ll move in, rearrange the furniture, hang your walls with light, and remind you— you were always meant for more than survival.

  Inspired through being loved, I learned that even in silence and closed doors, agape lingers as gratitude and learning “trust.” ~Adena M’lynn Why do you haunt my mind? I thought silence would be the cure, thought that if I blocked you, I could finally breathe again. But every time, my trembling finger hovered over the button, I’d undo it— because love isn’t built to erase. Your smile— it ambushes me. In laughter I wasn’t expecting, in words as small as chigger, in texts that should remained unwritten — and suddenly there, like a kindness that refuses to die, “hiiii”. I don’t understand why I had to do the very thing that hurt you— lie. I never wanted to be the one to crack the fragile glass of trust. My heart breaks as I say this: I never wanted harm to carry my name. But my name has too often stood for  pain. You— you were the mirror that showed me how my actions ripple outwards. You taught me that kindness isn’t an idea, it’s a practice. That love— the real kind, the agape...

  My friends and I once made pilgrimages to midnight movies. We claimed Highland Park Village in Dallas as our place, like our church. then chased the madness to Los Angeles,  to New York City’s screaming sidewalks,  and across the ocean to London’s Ritz Cinema at Leicester Square, where lips kissed the screen. Special times. Remembering that season with laughter. I laced myself into Lil Nell, tap-danced my heart out— fishnets laddered, glitter in my teeth belting lines I had no business keeping quiet, without a singing voice, mind you. And sure, some theaters tried to ban it—but you can’t ban sequins, you can’t outlaw toast, and you sure as hell can’t silence a crowd that knows all the callbacks louder than the film itself. And now— the poem…     “Midnight Mass (in Fishnets)” 😉 by Adena M’lynn Ladies and gentlemen— creatures of the night, misfits, rebels, corset saints and garter-belt prophets— welcome to the church of  Science Fiction/Double Feature! Thi...