cassandraamay

I haven't written poetry in such a long time, yet here I am.

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  • cassandraamay 100w

    For my auntie. I don't believe in angels or heaven, but she did.

    #angel #heaven #restinpeace #mourning #grief #love

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    Mourning for a Morning

    All you saw was the mourning on the morning that you left. And I'm sure those tears were an emotional toll on your new wings as you flew your way up, but believe me, once you reach your lofty pedestal of pastel clouds, painted by the sun itself, you will look back to see nothing but love.

    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 100w

    One of the most influential women in my life had finally come to visit me at work, I got the news as I was being escorted to the board room to meet her. I walked in to see her leisurely leaning against the table, with a cute little grin.
    She sat before me as she spoke with a sweet southern drawl, but the voice still demanded respect, and I was content to listen, and admiring how much she had accomplished to achieve her rank and respectability. I could have listened to her, and watched her all day.
    As I sat listening, her voice developed a new edge to it, much sharper than before; it pulled me from my daze. I watched wordlessly as her face slowly shifted in textures, her skin was filmy now, almost a wax. Her voice was no longer her own, it wasn't even a language I understood.
    I sat unmoving, sure that if I didn't react, it would leave me alone. As I stared at what the woman had become, she continued talking in a deep, new language as her wax skin sluggishly dripped down to expose the creamy bone beneath.
    Still acting undisturbed, I wasn't sure what was keeping me there at that point; the fact that I admired the real woman, or the terror of what she had become.
    With half of her doll face melted, she fell silent and simply stared at me, at least her eyes were still her own.
    I stood then, without excusing myself, and walked out the door where I found the world the same as I had left it.
    ©cassandraamay


    This is very personal for me.
    I have Paranoid Schizophrenia.
    This was one of the first incidents I encountered.
    I've always had a fairly solid grasp on telling visual hallucinations from reality, though they can be absolutely terrifying. When it comes to delusions, and auditory hallucinations however, it can be extremely difficult to determine what's real, and in my opinion, they're much scarier than the things I can see.

    #schizophrenia #schizo #melting #faces #wax

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    Melting

    One of the most influential women in my life had finally come to visit me at work, I got the news as I was being escorted to the board room to meet her. I walked in to see her leisurely leaning against the table, with a cute little grin.
    She sat before me as she spoke with a sweet southern drawl, but the voice still demanded respect, and I was content to listen, and admiring how much she had accomplished to achieve her rank and respectability. I could have listened to her, and watched her all day.
    As I sat listening, her voice developed a new edge to it, much sharper than before; it pulled me from my daze. I watched wordlessly as her face slowly shifted in textures, her skin was filmy now, almost a wax. Her voice was no longer her own, it wasn't even a language I understood.
    I sat unmoving, sure that if I didn't react, it would leave me alone. As I stared at what the woman had become, she continued talking in a deep, new language as her wax skin sluggishly dripped down to expose the creamy bone beneath.
    Still acting undisturbed, I wasn't sure what was keeping me there at that point; the fact that I admired the real woman, or the terror of what she had become.
    With half of her doll face melted, she fell silent and simply stared at me, at least her eyes were still her own.
    I stood then, without excusing myself, and walked out the door where I found the world the same as I had left it.

    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 100w

    "Too"

    As a child I was "too quiet",and "too weird".
    As an adolescent I was "too awkward", and "too ugly".
    As a teen I was "too foolish" and "too disobedient".
    As a young adult I was "too bitchy", and "too uppity".
    Now, now I am "too loud", "too confident", "too independent", "too brash", "too confrontational", "too proud, "too".

    I will always be "too much", but only for you.

    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 100w

    How To Be Whole

    I am not whole, and perhaps I never was.
    Possibly, I was created as a stained glass mural; never quite perfect, but never truly broken either.

    Though I am content not being whole, I still seek to be.
    And in my search for the missing pieces to my composition, I often find myself relinquishing shards of myself to others who are also fragmented.

    How will I ever finish the architecture of myself, while giving away all that I am?

    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 100w

    My earliest tastes of my type of femininity came from my distant, eccentric auntie. What a shame I only realized this after she had passed.

    #restinpeace #femininity #mytypeoffemininity #auntie

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    Femininity

    My earliest memories of her are shrouded in roses, cherubs, glitter, and tattoos.

    Her femininity was not the same that I had been shown; she was tougher, unrelenting, and refused to shrink for the comfort of others. She swore "too much", showed "too much", she was "too loud", but she was by far one of the most feminine people I knew.

    She was too much, and I am too.

    She was as wild, and feminine as the Ocean; completely untamed and refused to settle on any single shore. Simultaneously soft, yet strong enough to drown those that underestimated the depths they were entering.

    She was too wild, and I am too.

    She was both the bull and the china shop, perfectly balanced for herself. Unwilling to be anything but true to herself. Unstoppable to the very end.

    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 100w

    Damned Edges

    This pain, the pain of losing you, is ever present.

    And while it's true that the years have dulled that pain, softened the hardness, like water rounding a rock; if I let it, the edges become sharp again.

    When I think too long, or I see your eyes in another baby's round face, those damned edges once again cut deep into my heart.

    I'm much more solid in who I am as a woman now, in the fact that I will never be a mother..
    Your mother.
    Most days, I'm even confident in these facts.
    But some days...

    I just miss the hope of having you.

    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 151w

    Take off your clothes dear,
    Let's go dancing in the light
    Of the full blood moon.
    ©cassandraamay

    #moon #bloodmoon #witchy #magic #haiku

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    Dancing

    Take off your clothes dear,
    Let's go dancing in the light
    Of the full blood moon.
    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 151w

    I wailed to the sky,
    "Thank you for crying with me".
    And it wept harder.
    ©cassandraamay

    #sky #storm #cry #sadness #haiku

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    Storming

    I wailed to the sky,
    "Thank you for crying with me".
    And it wept harder.
    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 151w

    Something is coming.
    I fell it in the swaying
    Of the old oak tree.
    ©cassandraamay

    #witchy #nature #haiku

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    Swaying

    Something is coming.
    I fell it in the swaying
    Of the old oak tree.
    ©cassandraamay

  • cassandraamay 152w

    Another haiku inspires by Terri Irwin, I adore her.

    #love #us #still #haiku

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    Still

    I still look for you,
    I still listen to our song,
    And I still love you.
    ©cassandraamay