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Found 9 results

  1. jenga

    you leave suddenly like a brick pulling out from beneath me didn't realize how this would feel i followed my life like i follow stories until i snapped back to reality at the very end of it and it's harder when pain hits all at once. i have grown used to you building me up, making me laugh when i couldn't breathe, you made that feeling better texts coming in a couple times a day even if i don't have the time to make my responses do much more than suck, usually didn't know how to fathom the way you would vanish i wobble as my world tilts like a jenga tower with one brick pulled out i did not realize how it would feel to be left reaching for something beyond your emptiness you made me feel tall beautiful, happy, loved and seen. did you intend to do that? should not have called this happiness mine because you gave it to me all of this never could have happened if you hadn't built me up i wish i could have thanked you said something found true, constant words for what you mean before i felt the void of your shape stable and aching unfillable by anything but what is past out the window wish something could take me back to memories that some days i just want to bury myself in rather than face a shaky present before we the part was final barely holding i became highly acquainted with memory i think love is not just noticing when something is there but feeling all the moments when it is gone because you meant something something i stood upon. This is for a lot of people, but part of this is about Cicada closing down. I know I haven't been posting long, but thank you Cicada for giving me a place to post my writing where people I don't even know can see it. I've sort of grown used to how wacky and creative this place is, and normal, physical life is orderly and rule-following and nothing like that. Before now, the only people who read my work was basically my mum. And the occasional interested relative or teacher. I know I'm not that important here, but it still feels good to read through the view numbers on my poems, and feel like someone has read my work. I was afraid to start posting when I signed up in February, but I wish I could have started posting sooner. @bluebird , @The Invincible Troodon, @WanderingMonster, thank you for liking my work (and if there's anyone I'm forgetting, thank you too). All the people who showed up as views and didn't like: thank you for reading it. Even if you didn't like it--even in spirit, rather than in digital reaction, the fact that you took the time to read it means something to me. I don't know if any of you care, but in case you do, I'm going to keep posting on the Cicada 3.0 website after I can't post here any longer (cicadamagarchive.home.blog) by the same username.
  2. in flux (a hungry love song)

    caress the sun which drips and flows from my mouth my hunger is an abyss and you a marble. minute and absurd in the dark but blue all the same i'll pour out that light and serve it to you on a silver platter drink, drink, please my dark is home, i need it. let me eat. the skin above my heart is thin and stretched shadows flock to the space between beats
  3. Erupt

    Call me over to you in the dark, Entice me with the molten lava that seeps from your mouth. Your creeping smoke entraps itself inside my lungs. Initiate a slow burn within the veins that continue to force oxygen through me. Until I can no longer move. Turn my body into a mountain. A slowly growing rock formation that is born from the lava that singes my skin I will be immune to the incoming storm Under an umbrella of volcanic ash I am reborn as a stone. Peeking through the tide, I can breathe again.
  4. letters to my past self V

    you and phoenix will be clinging to a balcony railing, trying to see as far into the night as you can, when he asks if he can tell you something. you nod, not sure what to expect. he tells you he loves you, that he's been in love with you ever since the night when upon seeing him--a stranger at the time--said "who are you?" "go away." alas, you put my lesson to not trust towards the wrong person. phoenix backs away when you start shifting. the dragon you will become is large, winged, and most importantly, spiked with poison. you tell yourself it's a joke. after all you've been wronged so many times before, why should this be any different? he doesn't try to block the thorn that enters right below his heart.
  5. Things I wish I was brave enough to say.

    I wish I didn't love you as much as I do Wow I wish you'd just respond. Have you ever lied to me? Why did you not want me to ever post about you..? Were we ever really.. together? What am I to you? Like really? Do you really love me? Are you lying to me now.? How do I know that you're actually telling me the truth? I wish you'd just be open about our relationship I don't even know what we are I'm sorry I'm not enough
  6. CPR that kills twice

    I. With the blues that beat against my overwhelmed reds, I have poisoned puddles of scars. Veins that tear apart have boiled enough to take over your sheer mass. Alas! The ruined city inside us waits to thump again. Alas! A dead soul still hopes to breathe again. Alas. II. Must we forget the broken strings which once revived in us our lost faith in eternity? Must not we try to get intoxicated by fantasy anymore? Alas! Not as much as life is concerned, a swig of bitter truth taken abruptly is enough to console our days of dizzy romance.
  7. You Are A Paradox

    Eyes like the ocean they came from Or the thick green forests Rich in thorns And dew droplets Born from the condensation of rain clouds Wet. Lips like the barren deserts that offer warmth And entrapment followed by inevitable death Or tilted old trees Encouraged by the wind to fall Dry. Hands like flames Licking up and down my body Soon to overheat Like an old engine that can hardly move But only tremble Hot. Heart like the icy peak of Mt. Everest Nearly Impossible to reach Yet curiously intriguing Any explorer that gets so far is sure to freeze to death Cold. Smile like the falling fluff From the same clouds your eyes occupy Except chilling, and yet Soft. Gaze like a cliff Likely to crumble yet remains Holding a captivating view Only to be pursued with safety gear And determination Rough.
  8. She Found the Universe

    i'm jealous. there are already galaxies in your eyes, and yet my own lie like a glaring soar, straining for such tenderness and refraction gaping at the beauty around me and yet, never truly appreciating what i see. do you understand how much love you have? i swear that every time i turn around i find another solar system hidden in those eyes of yours. and your family and friends have hung constellations, (they must have) but that doesn't amount to the planets and suns and moons and every speck of space dust that has been accounted for and hung so carefully in your eye. you have been given the universe. and i turn and i see who hung so many of those stars and they may not have as many stars in their eyes, but they are a mirror, they reflect their love outward. and sometimes they worry they hung too many stars in your eyes, so they try to take them away, take them back, hide them from you, but they can't, because you notice when they try and it hurts you. and since they are a mirror, what hurts you hurts them. i hope you know who found the universe in your eyes. ------------ Note: So, I can't really take credit for all of these words, because the majority of them came from when one of my friends was trying to break it to me gently that my best friend was in love with me and went on this huge analogy of hanging stars. All the same, I think it's a beautiful poem, and it does mean a lot to me.
  9. Wildflowers

    The sun Not a creator, necessarily, but certainly god like Giving life to the seeds as they sleep Two worlds, so alike in their fervor, pulsing with life And yet so different as well From darkness to the brightest sunlight they emerge The smallest of green tendrils That tie together above and below The perfect definition of a bridge between And as the roots conquer the land underground The leaves will reach towards the sky Unending, expanding Yes they will die Their leaves will wither and their roots cease to explore Their colors will fade until the brightest hues are no more But the most beautiful thing about wildflowers Is that out of their death will always come a new life
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