cyndifferous
cyndifferous
Ramblings
127 posts
Child of the FenceWe found hope in a hollow placeWe found home in another way..
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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It existed
in threads of
gossamer glamour
binding together slowly
out of sight.
Delicate intricacies
that eventually
misled, misguided;
became only missed.
Inexplicable fascination
poised to be
squandered childishly
on the shards of
shattered delusions.
A fearful confession,
abandoning nuance
for permission- or
forgiveness
or both.
Braced for the fallout
swinging selfishly to
that final purge-
for the sake of
being honest,
and the truth
did not set me free.
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A disaster in slow motion,
brilliant lies glittered
their final reflections
of the sun
as they turned to
teeth behind lips
I didn’t touch.
Annihilating the
tangled threads
woven by intimate words,
insecurities and comforts-
fingertip fallacies.
And now it is just
another burden to bear,
an admission of fault
in an attempt to fill
a dismissive void-
and I am alone again
missing it in spite of myself.
Memory remains,
clinging desperately
to shadows on opaque glass
behind which to admit
that I was wrong
and to wonder
if it was ever real at all.
—————————————————————
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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I keep the lid on
all the parts of you
that I am still so attached to.
Generations before say
time would heal every wound,
but I still feel the itch of healing
as thicker skin grows-
and sometimes
I just can’t help
but to scratch
because I’m not ready.
How do you even measure
that time?
We are coursing through it,
desperate to slow it down
and to speed it up.
Yet somehow
an hour and an eon
can feel the same.
Time is elastic
and cruel; unyielding.
I see your smile and
it fills me with
memories of yesterday.
Leaves me
to grieve every tomorrow
in the present moment.
I am helpless,
scratching the wound
just to keep feeling
this great loss.
The one that proved
I had something to lose
after all-
that there is always
more to lose.
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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I am a bystander
padded with gossamer lies.
a pacifier to disguise intent,
gauzy curtains
eager to expose.
bleed in private,
internalize until the lies
I tell myself
turn everything to stone.
calcify my flesh
in opposition to enmity
until the lies
become poetry,
which is just big words
hurling metaphors
at the truth;
gossamer lies.
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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There is a child, broken but strong
She lives in her imagination, where she controls the safety
“Say it again” he says as she cries out
pleading for savior
This fit will mellow, as they always do
And there will be no marks to bear the sign of her submission
For years yet
There is a child for whom fear and love are mutually exclusive
It is what she knows
He begs her “stay with me”
His heavy hands out of sight, innocent
And this kingdom could be hers
Grief funding materialistic love
And she will not understand the trade being offered
For decades, until she’s forced to trade again
This child has already felt the icy prick of panic
the swell of her airway as she struggles to breathe
the thud of her own heart hammering
Her fight or flight is already armed
Barely in the doors of societal youth
And already she worries
Nightmares are all she knows,
And the bi-weekly promise of safety
He screams “you infuriate me”
and this time the words end in stars
which will rise purple and fade to yellow
And when asked she will tell, unfazed
“I lost a shoe this morning”
A red canvas shoe
that imprinted itself in her mind
when it connected to her face
He loved her once, this is true
And so she will keep loving him
from the safety of somewhere else
Until he says “you don’t deserve me”
and walks away
Her disarray is hers to keep together
So none see the puzzle she has become
she never bares the burden
They say “she is no worse for wear”
Because they cannot see the cracks between her pieces
Only the smile on her face
She has already learned to hide
a lie between two truths:
All that she is; and all that she is not
There is a woman, broken but strong
She lives in her imagination; controlled safety
but the ghost of him lives there too
“It doesn’t matter how good you are”
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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I’ve stood in the darkness of heroes
It is the kind of dark that hides
in blinding lights
I’ve felt the sting of reverence
as it rips away
with all of my notions
taking skin and sinew with it
And I am raw
bleeding
Most would say
no worse for wear
But I am worn
Like a necklace I am worn
and I have become the lie
Like a cloak
and I am heavy
Like shoes
and I am formed to the foot
Like a cobweb I am worn
and I am dust
on your family photo
a disgrace.
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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i heard you say
your feelings are your responsibility
and they are.
you lash out
scarring
and it is my responsibility.
you cut deep
taking
everything
leaving harsh words
in the mess.
it is my responsibility
to stomach the pain
of knowing
that you made me
just to tear me down.
it is my responsibility
to lie and resent,
give you the tools
to my own destruction;
the bricks in my wall
come tumbling down.
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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an errant thought barged in
of all the things I’ve lost I miss favor the most
but it wasn’t honest and the tunnel of mirrors is endless
errant is often intrusive
I am everywhere in pieces
broken and directionless
and from these angles I can see
what I couldn’t up close
those pieces aren’t mine
they were once but
I am not broken
the audacity of that implication
that I do not suffer
that I do not make myself small
that I do not willingly break pieces of me away
that my heart does not constantly bleed
and for what?
the eternal question
for what?
for what?
and that answer defines
I am not broken
I am strength
because I am skeptical
and constantly invalidated
and I am still doing
the thing that used to fill me up
so that someone else may feel full
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cyndifferous · 3 years ago
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I am so tired
Two decades of monologue silenced, the only remnant of the marathon is the clench of my jaw
It aches now
I breathe out the truth, hurriedly, and shake it off just as fast
There and gone, unconvinced. A suggestion.
I fell headlong against my will but will never speak it’s name—forbidden
There is no longer a tangle of half thoughts, pieces of me chipped away making it impossible to form connections
Comfort is shallow and shadowing the truth, the weight of more than just my own world
Even the strongest structure wears after weathering a decade of storms
After all, it is man-made
It gets harder to atone for habitual disappointment, foundational neglect
The race is over and I am so tired
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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you remind me of the moon in the first few days of November when the nights are longer than each lazy day; a waxing crescent of light to show only the tiniest sliver of its truth. but these are the early nights of fall, before the brutality of winter settles in; we breathe a chilled sigh of relief from the chaotic days of summer. hung in a dark sky, deceitful early evening, away from the bustle of distraction and industry the moon is lit just so revealing the magnitude of secrets it shrouds; backlit by the crisp edges of its silver halo cast by its bright bend as it inches predictably into the next phase.
on these breathless nights it is clear enough to study its sultry ombre shadow, no longer pitch black and unreadable; enough clarity to expose the scars of its surface, the depth of its shape, the weight of its eternal routine. in these brief days where night rules the hours it is seductive and sweet, revealing itself shyly above its crooked smirk as if cautiously inviting inquisitive exploration. a cautious mapping of the peaks and slopes of its timeless terrain, to discover its rough facade disguising tender nerves; what intent does its ambiguity seek? does it know that with each long sensual night it reveals itself just slightly more, overpowering the desire to stay tethered to the earth?
it offers slow and raw exposure; charging the atmosphere in electric curiosity, reality bending to its whim taking gravity in every definition with it. but the early days of fall are fleeting and time is a thief exchanging lust for logic, stealing possibility as the nights turn bitter. I hand myself over but I am frozen in place remembering that the moon is consistently inconsistent, hiding and revealing itself as it turns always away. the season has already changed; the moon and time have moved cruelly on, their secrets kept.
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean
everywhere
and nowhere
time ceased to exist,
alongside circumstance
and boundaries
erected in fear
somewhere under a moonlit sky
location unknown
a scripted page turned
and a blank canvas stared back
seeking an author
color and life
somewhere in the whole of the universe
a choice was forged
from a vast perspective.
a decision to slip into the sea
dark, mysterious
to chase the words for the page
brutal, honest.
we don’t learn to swim
without accepting the risk
that we may drown
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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I think of you when I don’t want to,
A face hidden in shadow because I don’t yet have you committed to memory
I cast my gaze away,
Avoiding the tide of your eyes reaching out to lap the surface and pull me helplessly into the undertow
I am drowning in you,
Desperately clawing towards the sun- that which I know is there, a constant to balance your wax and wane
My roots are exposed,
Tangles of history loosening from the force of your whirlwind, the quiet whisper of freedom as they pull free from the earth
I am resisting,
In every way that I know how, floating as I slowly fall, but gravity is law and I am powerless
We are oil and water.
We are looking for a balance to strike.
A delicate dance.
You lead, I’ll follow.
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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Growth
Growth comes when the truth has been laid out and all that remains is choice. When pretenses fall, every movement is exposed and intentions are bathed in light- truth speaks. Behind the soft black velvet façade there is flesh; raw and bleeding, alive. Begging to be touched. This moment is pivotal, it spins out before me. I thought I knew every shape, the landscape familiar but totally foreign as if a fever had warped reality as it burned through my brain. I dropped into the truth glow, overwhelmed by the perspective before me. Did I pause before I slid into it's belly? I didn't even feel myself chewed and hulled, my nerves enthusiastically blinded by shadows of the truth. I lied to myself over and over until I believed the form I took was my own. I was carefully molded, shaped slowly over time by the trickle of a gentle stream; eroded to allow passage. The stream shifted into river, a new path for the cycle of existence to forge ever onward, and I was swept delicately into the current. But when I reached the violent ocean I drowned because there was no longer the safety a soft pebbled bed beneath me, no banks to seek refuge on, no island to swim to. Only endless blue, a serene plane of glass, deceiving. Did I grow, or did rot set in to my roots? There is so much hurt in the truth, so much pain.
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cyndifferous · 4 years ago
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A cadence adrift in time has changed signatures; a rhythm carefully committed to memory shifts, but the tune is the same.
The key changes, slurring melody as tenors seek to strike balance in the fold. In the dark a symphony is one single glorious plane. Closely it is a universe; lines and spaces dotted with voices, an ecosystem of sound.
A viola drifts along the harmony; passive. Seen, not heard. Strings vibrate madly, bowing into crescendo. The sticky smell of sap as a movement takes shape in a rosin cloud. Fingers unhinged in frenzied staccato.
Perspective has limitless boundaries, spinning endlessly out. It is dynamic; whole and constantly evolving. A voice once heard as a whisper from another place in time has grown ever louder.
The tune is the same; the sound is subjective.
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