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Nyx Oct 2024
I'm on okay terms with my demons,
But our relationship is completely superficial.
We talk and laugh at parties,
But their claws dig into me.
I smile nervously
And rip 'em off
Like the body of a tick, too quickly
So the head is still embedded
And I wait for paralysis to set in.
This poem used to be about one thing, then another. At this point I'm not sure what it's supposed to be about lol. What do you think?
Nyx Sep 2024
You know how the saying goes:
They write one and you know they love you
They write a hundred and they love the craft
I'll admit
I've written a hundred and more, 'm sorry

I'm getting sick and tired of the same routine
Pacing all night
Until I collapse, exhausted

Spinning my wheels, running on fumes,
And ultimately getting nowhere.

I'm thinking of blowing this whole thing up
And starting from scratch
Because after we ended things
It took you half the time to recover that I did.

You know how the saying goes
And those are the consequences of having a muse.
You corrupted the art
And turned it into an obsession.

I've been limited,
Waxing poetic about your body, your soul, your grip on me
And nothing more.

Take this as a goodbye letter
To: you
And for: me
Take this as a promise to stop looking back.

I'll write about the stars
The wind in my hair
And how the birds sing to greet the early morning.

Maybe one day I'll write about someone new.

I'll write about living, and stop thinking about you.
"If he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes a few hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets".
Nyx Sep 2024
In a dream
I was sitting on the grass at night
hands splayed behind me to support my weight

I looked up, staring at the same old constellation
until one star at the edge fractured
a few pieces brightly trailing down

and then everything exploded
a nebula bloomed to take up a piece of the sky
celestial green with
an aura pulsing outward in waves
as if calling me to another edge of the universe

I tried to film it
zooming in and the layers kept going
detail upon detail
depth upon depth

now sitting in my bed, I'm wondering what it all means.
Written about one of the most vivid dreams I've had in a long time.
Nyx Sep 2024
I compare my loneliness to the sound of a mourning dove.
It starts low and small, then goes up
It repeats the more each call goes unanswered

Perhaps letting it out, alone and loud
over and over
eases the pain, yet also pokes at the caged creature within
encouraging a festering of wounds.

A mourning dove never seems to be where the other birds are
Because when it calls it becomes all I can hear
It guides me far into the fog, ever elusive
until I finally spot it
high above on a line.

Every time it gets a little easier.
Every time it starts to sound less
like a Gymnopédie No. 1
and more like a Claire de Lune
major key as well as minor
content as well as sorrowful.

It's alone, and it's still singing.
I saw a mourning dove today and decided to write a poem about it. Fun fact: the typical (mournful) cooOOOooo-woo-woo-woo call of the mourning dove is only done by the male when they are looking for a mate.
Nyx Sep 2024
Moth that lost the moon
swimming in a sea of lights
electric tricksters
I decided to try a haiku.
Nyx Sep 2024
I want to move so I do it in silence
2am dance party
empty dead house, electric mind

Maybe one day you'll see my soft underbelly
Maybe I'll always prefer the shell

But, blooming in hope, I whisper
I can wait forever until you're ready
to put opaqueness to your translucent form
In the meantime

Just give me a glass of that sweet ambrosia
and I'll move forever
swaying on the gods' dancefloor
Nyx Sep 2024
5D
Everyone knows what becomes of energy.
It cannot be created
It cannot be destroyed
And so, since I've caught it
Now I must set it free

I watch it slip away, in mourning
See it soar up to the sky
And break past the atmosphere

It flies years away
Straight to the end
Where the stars hold their breath at the edge.

Wait for me
Take the light and weave it into the dark
Dance with me
Not a shadow of a doubt in sight

I'd like to think time moves differently here.
No past nor future to speak of
Just two souls intertwined
Existing, evermore.
What does this poem mean for you?
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