Pinned toot
Pinned toot

I should probably post an introduction to pin on my profile but at this point I'm just like "pls support your local magpie poet, she likes ramen and eggs and shiny things and will give you words in return."

Also

"Eater of hearts currently rebuilding her empire of mugs in a non disclosed location that is no longer London."

Or maybe just.

"Tired poet does words for you whether you like them or not. Is soft please don't startle."

Yeah that'll do.

Sleep like a dragged out hike where you want to get to the end but you keep having to break and emerge from the flow, to have water and catch your breath.

Bleach burns like family on my scalp,
it brightens it all up.
Suppose I never believed the people
who said it wasn’t supposed to hurt.
It’s my mother who sections my hair in the late 90s
and then she does her own hair,
the frizz perm she used to have yellows.
I am a bargain bin wasteland barbie, in my own hands
I turn into a doll again. I smear girlhood
pink all over my face.
Lighten up,
it’s only play pretend,
we put on
and it burns a little. But it’s supposed to.

TOUCH/STARVED

patreon.com/posts/35427956

Last poem of March, if you have a dollar to spare now would be a good time to support a poet.

I would really love a peacetime fantasy RPG. 

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TOUCH/STARVED

patreon.com/posts/35427956

Last poem of March, if you have a dollar to spare now would be a good time to support a poet.

Editing the last Patreon poem for March, what a strange month this has been. I don't know if I've ever read less poetry in my life and it is heavy with grief because of it. But I am writing, strange disjointed notes between my uni work and existing, and once while making sauce in the kitchen. I guess I can't not write, even if the words are like shattered fosils I need to carefully extract and identify as something that is larger than it seems.

I am piecing together some of these things now.

Bleach burns like family on my scalp,
it brightens it all up.
Suppose I never believed the people
who said it wasn’t supposed to hurt.
It’s my mother who sections my hair in the late 90s
and then she does her own hair,
the frizz perm she used to have yellows.
I am a bargain bin wasteland barbie, in my own hands
I turn into a doll again. I smear girlhood
pink all over my face.
Lighten up,
it’s only play pretend,
we put on
and it burns a little. But it’s supposed to.

It's poetry day, you know what that means...

...I've cut the dead ends of my hair off and I'm not wearing pants even though it's noon.

How do you know it’s love?
I wish to split every fruit I eat with him
it is the closest thing to love
when we both share the taste of sweet
flesh.
I want to wake him up to feed him slices
of crisp apples
and soft nectarines. And kiss his mouth
with my sticky mouth.
It is the closest thing to love
I think.

I do 3 pieces of exclusive poetry a month on my patreon, if you have a dollar to spare right now is a good time for support.

patreon.com/Ceciliek/

I do 3 pieces of exclusive poetry a month on my patreon, if you have a dollar to spare right now is a good time for support.

patreon.com/Ceciliek/

Regards,
Your Ex Girlfriend.

-
I don’t know
why I signed my name at the bottom.
Like you wouldn’t remember my email address,
or my name
in my email address. Or is it just
that I’ve become so much a stranger
to myself,
I wouldn’t expect you to recognize me either.
I thought about your mother earlier
and how she’d enjoy the dinner I made, you wrote back
and said they were all fine.

1/2

I knew every dark corner of your mind
and you knew mine, there are doors in me you closed
that I’ve not opened for anyone else.
And I signed my name in the email I wrote
to check if you had gotten sick.
Here at the end of the world, I still think of you
like an old friend,
one I give my regards to, no longer my
familiarity.

2/2

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I knew every dark corner of your mind
and you knew mine, there are doors in me you closed
that I’ve not opened for anyone else.
And I signed my name in the email I wrote
to check if you had gotten sick.
Here at the end of the world, I still think of you
like an old friend,
one I give my regards to, no longer my
familiarity.

2/2

Show thread

Regards,
Your Ex Girlfriend.

-
I don’t know
why I signed my name at the bottom.
Like you wouldn’t remember my email address,
or my name
in my email address. Or is it just
that I’ve become so much a stranger
to myself,
I wouldn’t expect you to recognize me either.
I thought about your mother earlier
and how she’d enjoy the dinner I made, you wrote back
and said they were all fine.

1/2

I promised myself I wouldn't apologise for the output or lack of for my poetry here, but I am very sorry I'm so inactive at the moment. I envy those who can take stress and turn it into art, I just take stress and make more stress...

I wish I had more writing to share with you all. <3

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