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 May 2016 Syd
Louise
the thought of the words
it's different with her...
coming out your mouth
slipping off your tongue
with those very lips
that that used to
kiss mine
softly
makes me want to ******* *****
because all I ever wanted
was to be enough for
            you
to hear you at my door
whisper the words
I'm sorry,
I love you,
forgive me,
it's different this time

           promise

but it will never be that way with us
because I will never be enough
and you will never
come back
**different.
 Apr 2016 Syd
Louise
I miss u
 Apr 2016 Syd
Louise
I kept catching myself staring at
you
in class today and
thinking
about the way you
kiss my neck and
how
I miss your       lips
your laugh
and the
                          freckles
on your shoulders,


   ... please come back to me
 Apr 2016 Syd
illueminate
i studied your body like i would the sky,
tracing constellations into your skin as you hummed
what sounded like the clouds would when they move.

andromeda on your throat, aquarius along your collarbones,
canis major covered your chest, gemini on your right shoulder.
i didn't want to leave when you told me that you loved me.

leo graced your left shoulder, just slightly down your back,
your stomach wore lyra, lopsided, like your smile.
sometimes i couldn't breathe at the thought of losing you.

orion on one hip, pisces on the other, my lips on both,
scorpius, dangerous, starting on your inner thigh.
but it was that loving you that scared me more than losing you.

taurus, ursa major, both on your calves,
body trembling as i traced virgo onto your ankles.
i couldn't hold on, i couldn't breathe, i couldn't understand.

i always saved libra for last, a balance scale,
over the entirety of your back, my safe haven.
breaking the scale when i leaned over, lips against your ear,
*we can't exist together.
from my self published book 'beneath the vacancy' // lulu, amazon, barnes & noble
 Apr 2016 Syd
Louise
Untitled
 Apr 2016 Syd
Louise
This is who I hate. It's what I've done that makes me feel this way. It's your voice. it's your lips. It's in the way you stumble whispering I love you through kisses and trying to catch your breath. It's the 3 hour phone calls. It's the broken promises and memories. It's the way you held me. It's how you felt like home. and I've ate away the pain of you leaving and its left me 3 months later 20 pounds heavier and hating myself even more than I did before. it's hyperventilating at 9pm in my bedroom with anxiety throughout my whole body, Its my arms shaking, it's  a weight on my chest, it's butterflies suffocating my throat. it's hysterically crying with a blade in one hand and pills in the other. it's the phone ringing the very second I go to drag the blade across my arm with your name popped up on the screen even though we haven't talked in months. you dialed my number because you simply felt as if something were wrong. It's my mind screaming it's a coincidence but hearts aching whispering love. I'm numb. The bottle of alcohol on the floor is empty and a cigarette I stole from my mom while sleeping is all burnt out. Burnt out like the words you wrote when we first met in the fires we'd gaze at for hours. Those beautiful flames have nothing on the colors of your eyes. Forever changing with how you feel in that exact moment.
It's the fact that I'll always love you. It's how your silence comforts me in ways none of my friends words even know how. It's the fact that none of my friends even notice or ask but you just knew.   This is me unable to move on from what used to be. But this is not about you. I did this to myself, I destroyed myself day by day with all the dumb decisions I continue to make. Regret regret regret. This is me today, this is who I have become. This is who I hate. This is the girl cussing out a teacher. This is missing 47 days of school this year and failing 5 classes. This is ******* out friends and getting upset over stupid things. This is holding on to the past. This is becoming the person I swore I'd never be. This is who I hate. This is not me. But it's what I've let myself become. I hate the person staring back at he mirror. It's hating the person you see, because you don't recognize your own reflection.
This is to my soul, my heart, my mind. I want to be free, this is why I want to be in the stars.
 Jan 2016 Syd
Louise
Untitled
 Jan 2016 Syd
Louise
It's a place not many like to visit because of the feeling it gives. The feeling I so often learn to forget, until I am face to face with the tomb of the one I miss the most. The sky appears to be dark; even when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping, I only feel the darkness that lingers around me. I walk down several paths with suspense of what is going to strike my mind when I am reminded of the absence of him. I hear the cars passing by, but my thoughts are much louder than the noise of the cars, the birds, or the sound of the leaves crumbling beneath me as I lay beside him. But he is much farther down. He is 6 feet under, yet I can still hear the sound of his voice on my 9th birthday replaying over and over inside my head saying, "Mya happy birthday baby, I love you very much." As I stare at the steelers sign that is carved into the stone beside me, I closely hold onto the necklace he gave to me as the tears start to fall down my face and onto the nearly cut grass. The grass reeks of the Earth being alive, healthy, and well- unlike the curse of cancer that left my father weak.  My mouth goes dry, but I can almost taste the air that leaves me with a lump in my throat. It taste like sadness, but the feeling is much more power when the thought of those around me try comforting me, that is until I realize that I am alone. I can smell the flowers that lay all around, and for a few seconds I remember the rose bush that sat right in front of his front porch. The same front porch I left a bright red nail polish stain on, and in that moment I can smell it and hear his voice yelling, but it only becomes comforting. Everything hits me at once as I try chocking out some words, and I speak of my life and how deeply I wish he were here. As I slowly walk away from the tomb he was buried under almost 7 years ago, I whisper one last thing. "I love you to the stars and back, but I think I miss you more."
 Sep 2015 Syd
Shyanna Ashcraft
I wander aimlessly,
And people say to me,
"You're gorgeous, and
Pretty, and perfectly
Happy."
But is that because of you?
You weren't there for me,
My Grrandmother raised me,
My mother was M.I.A.
And I would cry.
I understand that
you have problems,
That he hit you, and
Cussed you out, and
Drug you down.
But you kept promising me,
Kissing and hugging and
Crying to me.
But I was little,
Too young to comprehend,
Too Juvenile and naïve
To really understand.
And then it got worse.
I grew up and
Began to see.
No longer blind
I saw
What you had come to be.
My pain began.
You were never
There for me.
My Daddy died
And while I cried
You did drugs with
Men so fowl and snide
and painfully
crude.
I tried to hide
My tears
My cries
My pain.
I died;
A little inside,
Each time you lied.
You promised me you wouldn't
Leave me,
You'd choose me,
But No.
You chose the men,
Time and time again,
Over your kids.
I barely know
My siblings because
Of what you did.
I'm all grown up;
An adult of forty
At the age of fifteen.
Because I helped
Raise the only
Brother you kept
While you acted like
It was you in your teens.
And then February.
It was February,
You almost died
And you don't seem to notice.
You lost your children.
Do you even care?
Life seems good for you,
But those burdens I carry
Were meant for you
To have to shoulder.
Where am I in your
Mind's picture of life?
Me and my brothers
And my sister too?
Oh, Right,
Were right next
To the bible
Laying on your shelf,
Right next to the rest of your dignity.
And P.S.
While I'm at it,
Can you tell me you
Love me,
Just this once,
Like Maybe,
You might really mean
It this time?
09-24-15
For my mother, and All she's ever done for me.
I actually wrote this for a slam poetry assignment in my English class...
"I kissed a feminist once",
he says, face flushed blotchy, something heavy resting on his shoulders
maybe
“I kissed a feminist once,”
and everybody laughs
“she was cold as ice,” he says
and he doesn’t mention how I turned
warm beneath his fingers,
heated up like embers
and reduced his bed to flame and ashes
“God was she mean,” he says
but he hasn’t forgotten the time
I told him to be kind to himself, to
purge the poison from his veins and
scrape the smoke from his lungs
“I love you I love you I love you”
I said,
“please love yourself too”
“I kissed a feminist once,”
he says, to loud guffaws,
an elbow in his side
and he doesn’t say “her lips
were the softest thing to ever brush
my collar bone”
he doesn’t say “she made playlists in my mind”
or “she covered me like a blanket”
or “her teeth on my earlobe ripped me open and scattered me across the sheets of her twin bed”
he doesn’t say “I loved that
storm of a girl,
I loved her heavy at 4am I loved
her like pennies
at the bottom of a fountain
like memorized freckles
I loved her like depth perception
like opposable thumbs
I loved her I loved her I loved her”
and instead he shrugs
that heavy thing off his shoulders
and shrugs the feel of my lips
off his chest and he says,
“she was a crazy ***** anyway”
- Lily Cigale
This was too beautiful not to share.
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