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366 · Jul 2019
{a realm in the wind}
Cyd Jul 2019
young stoic autumn
grasshopper chirps beyond days
aromatic rain
Cyd Aug 2019
Somewhere we were two crescent shaped bodies hidden away in a house owned by a bank
The broken blinds didn’t completely block out the lights so I only saw you in fragments
Mystery intriguing the deepest parts of my mind

Neither of us wanted to be in solitude so we climbed under the sheets where enigma could meet enigma
In the darkness you muttered something
Those words you spoke held such animus
Yet you dressed and fed them to me so well

Two young fiends just feeding off the breath and standing on the shoulders of the other
Today I'm wearing my tears in plain sight, in the ducts of my eyes
In contrast to the rage in yours so maybe well look like we actually
belong together
(unfinished)
246 · Nov 2018
Ode to Womanhood
Cyd Nov 2018
Before you I longed to be noticed, never to think how closely.
Ripe and married in the eyes of the lord the daunting task to officiate our union felt anything but holy.
And just like the crisp of fall ends and the swift frost of winter enters the atmosphere, almost like a magic trick a part of me was purged.
Life a new as a wife and soon to be mother.
Self stripped of character, creating a fresh flesh slate-stone the record of my rebirth will be set in.
Tattered house dresses replacing the prized complimentary gowns.
Once being looked upon with passion and effervescence now casted glances of carnal lust and depreciation advanced towards me.
Self abnegation and nothing less, a ladies place.
Locker room talk and snickers laced with malice, “A ladies place?” Contradiction in that thought.
A ladies place is on the front lines, behind closed doors.  
Tears over teenaged heartbreak wisk away into the air and settle now as young runny noses and dry whining eyes.
The name called up on you now only referring to the status provided.
A fathers daughter, a mans wife and a sons mother.
128 · Jul 2019
Ladies of the Eden
Cyd Jul 2019
"I'll drown myself in the lake fire, I might as well" I thought
"It's the only way I'll be exonerated of my burdens"
a book of matches to burn myself, so every scar can be a memory if I choose it to be
How could i own the narrative in this mental climate?
I've got the gumption to face my miseries, just haven't got enough heart to change anything
I thought I was doing the back stroke, pushing myself away from the things I fear
It turns out I was just flailing my arms about in an attempt to not be taken under by the waves
I begged to whoever would listen down in the Lake of Flames

hastily yanked from her womb yet again
Overwhelmed by the scent of brimstone, lead to that quaking screech
I've been kept up by her exorcising now since day of my fathers passing
Reborn into my afterlife
(unfinished)

— The End —