Laying on a bed of roses,
a seed sprouted in me.
Within it was a blueprint,
for my mother's soul to read.
Her spirit speaks in code,
& tells her womb how to proceed.
I can feel my formation,
as my cells start to convene.
Stories spiral in my genes.
Tales told of all her queens.
Voices travel through my veins,
and sing to me the prophecy.
It serenades the quiet
With high moral melodies
Laced in all the lyrics
Of the words they'd never speak.
The bass shakes up the dust.
The drums dig out the deep.
To the rhythm of their song,
I feel my heart begin to beat.
My soul & skin unite
With this ancient history.
And somewhere, I exist
In the spaces in between.
We merge in preparation
To walk a waking dream.
I can feel the integration
Making one whole entity.
The blueprint now complete.
I become the sum creation:
A conscious flesh machine.
I hear generations singing,
Inviting me to earth.
My ancestors envelope me
And whisper of my worth.
They tell me what they know
And what it is that I must learn.
They show me what to hold
And what it is that I must purge
Beside me, they will guide me
til my spirit must return
The clock for me, starts ticking
From the moment I emerge.
The very moment of my birth.
When my soul aligns
With the cosmic eye...
And time starts to occur.
And the stars...
they start to burn.
The galaxies - they turn.
The skies, wide
with open eyes.
The clouds cry
And crystalize,
all of my...
Pain
into feeling. My,
Thoughts
into thinking. My,
Body
into moving. My,
Love
into being.
Air that I can breathe in.
Eyes seeing.
Heart beating.
Feet leading
my soul
on the path
of its healing.
Writing stories
I believe in
Spreading love
By planting seedlings.
Connections
I feel seen in.
Rabbit holes
that call my soul
and dare my spirit
to go deep in.
To breathe in
All the teachings
Of these saturated feelings.
That together & at once
We're all solitary grieving.
We search in silence, seeking
Just for ways to stop the bleeding.
For our pain to find releasing.
For ways to keep from sleeping.
Ways to hold onto the meaning
Of the dreams that we
Forgot we're dreaming.
To remember the reflections
That we're giving and receiving.
The cycles we're repeating
That were
Visiting this world
As a conscious human being.
Freeing and revealing.
"You're here now.
You've been here before.
But you wont be here again."
● mica light ●
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.
.
.
.
.
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For my mother.
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 10:41 AM UTC
I lick your leftovers
off my lips, and
swirl your last words
on my tongue.
They taste of burnt passion
in cast iron, abandoned
& blackened -
𝟵 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲.
9 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.
9 𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.
9 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥.
Red spirals hot, creep in.
Your slow burn increases.
𝟵𝟬 𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙.
9 lies cut to pieces,
in myth marinade.
Subtly seasoned,
diced and sauteed.
𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨;
𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲.
You speciously serve me
9 smoldering stories,
& pour me 9 glasses
of 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲.
You leave a... 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚, in my mouth.
The aroma of love lingers
heavy, this time, like smoke.
I bite the burnt chaos off my lips
& find the flavour of you remains.
I collect me from the ashes
of this love that's gone ablaze...
𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, over an 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚.
.
- mica light -
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 5:24 PM UTC
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺.
𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.
𝗦𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦.
𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗿𝘀 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘵.
& 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻."
꧁꧂
mica light • poetry
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 12:44 AM UTC
My mother planted ancient seeds,
in garden beds surrounding me.
She hummed a sunny melody,
while placing them so tendlerly.
She showered them in sunlight beams,
& all the things that clouds can dream.
She caught the wind of willow trees,
& sprinkled wisdom from the breeze.
𝗙𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲𝘀.
A thousand hearts she gave to me.
With mirrors grown upon the leaves,
𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.
꧁꧂
mica light ▪︎ poetry
May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 2:25 AM UTC
This naughty little thing...
burning in between us
caught fire by surprise,
I didn't even mean it.
𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙚𝙙.
Cause when it's hot, it's hot.
And when it's not, it's not.
We know how to stoke the fire.
Rage it up with pure desire.
Rush with lust to make it higher.
Reach the heights that we require...
𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙨.
A heat that high
won't maintain it's size, though.
I knew that from the get-go.
You know... some settle
for a median flame,
but I think I like this
burning game.
𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝.
So we skip the middle ground
and let the fire go down.
Yes, we know how to tame it.
Keep a flicker of a flame lit.
Teasing me with just the tip -
it tingles on my lips.
Just hot enough to feel it in my hips.
𝙏𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.
So I go about my daze
with this burning little craze.
It's just the right amount -
doesn't get in my way
or require me to stay.
This is easy to maintain
when no one has a say.
No one can portray
or predict, or define it.
No one's giving this a name
or trying to confine us.
This dynamic, I quite find it...
𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜.
Time has shown consistently
how natural this is for me.
I don't have the energy
to fuel a fire steadily.
To sow the seeds
of others' dreams.
To meet the requirements
most people need.
Cause I need to be free,
so I can be there for me.
And I think you do too,
so I guess our needs agree.
𝙁𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙
𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙯𝙤𝙣𝙚.
At least for now
when I look around,
I am glad to have found
𝙖 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.
• ꧁꧂ •
mica light
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 1:01 AM UTC
I am a person.
And I will silence nothing
at the risk of losing sight of me.
Not again. Not ever.
I am a person.
And I had to earn it.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺...
I had to find out on my own
that I never even learned it.
Never knew that it existed,
let alone that I deserved it.
Never knew that there was more
beyond how others would observe it.
Left to tear apart the parts of me
that weren't ******* perfect.
Believed my body and it's ***
exist to only be of service.
That in the eyes of others is
where the sum of all my worth is.
...𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴?
Every time I showed a piece of me
my mother ******* burned it.
Or a lover would reverse it.
Weaponizing all my flaws
to take it all and ******* turn it...
& suddenly my 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆's
where all of the concern is.
...𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯, 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵?
Cause when I speak,
the space it takes
tends to be a trigger.
Words of truth fill up the room
and press down on their fingers.
Gripping on their guns,
like they'll be killed if they consider.
That my pain is not to blame
for them looking in the mirror.
That it doesnt make them smaller
if my audience gets bigger.
That being seen for all my story
doesn't place them in the center.
That the one who holds the canvas
paints the story they'll deliver.
& the child inside me paints
with the pain that is within her.
Dipping her brush into
all the people who've dismissed her.
Covering the canvas
with sad sounds of silver.
Grief glitters gold
and silently shimmers.
The colour of **** thick
and all too familiar.
The truth can be seen
when the sun hits the picture.
It catches the light
and the colours all kiss her.
I stand strong beside her.
It took a long time to find her.
𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻.
And we will silence nothing
at the risk of losing sight of us.
. . .
𝑺𝒐 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅
𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄
𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏,
𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 -
𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄.
𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜.
𝑷𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔
𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.
. . .
꧁꧂
mica light • poetry
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 8:32 AM UTC
𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
I loathe to see your eyes
when they're frightened
by the flames in mine.
𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
That the sound of your name
did not get ignited
by the words on my blade.
𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
For rage replaced love
that wasn't provided
by the ones of my blood.
𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
Seeking out my cocoon,
in circles I cycle
by the pull of the moon.
𝙄 𝙙𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
All over my skin -
a lovers revival
of the yang and the yin.
𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚, 𝙄 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
Unlock and explore me.
You've tasted the title,
but my 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗮𝘁
𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
¿
• mica light poetry •
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 1:34 AM UTC
& 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀:
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱.
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬
𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱?
𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰
𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.
𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳?"
𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀.
Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 12:22 AM UTC
I don't know
where lavender grows,
I know only where it dies.
Where dusk holds on
'til it reaches dawn
& swallows up her light.
I don't know
where lavender grows,
I know only its demise.
When sunrise brings
forth the colour in the rings
of my violet, violent eyes.
▪︎
• mica light •
▪︎
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 3:11 AM UTC
You think that I'm guilt tripping,
But I'm just trying to keep from slipping.
You think it's about you,
But I live in a different truth.
It's cold and without sun.
Population: 1
▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 5:07 PM UTC