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Cye

Cye

i’m glad you’re here. i craft narratives and explore stories.

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A Collection of Short Poems
from
The Permanent Ink of Non Sense

There is a specific six-letter word that governs the entire lifespan of a hidden connection.

In the beginning, it is the quiet space where two people build a world away from the crowd. In the middle, it becomes a distance — that unexplainable shift where the lines fade and one side grows out of reach. And in the end, it becomes a necessary boundary; the final curtain dropped by the one who chooses to walk away with grace.

It is a word that means nothing is being said, yet it somehow manages to say absolutely everything.

The Anatomy of a Flare

it ignited on a warm summer night
i stood frozen — in pure fight or flight

it felt so unfair,
the weight of the air,
having a hair
like a sudden sunshine flare

then came the glance that cut
through the guise:
pierced to the core by those bright blue eyes,

a beautiful terror,
a sudden despair — a gold-tinted savior
with a death-row stare

Strobe Light Shadows

she was built to survive the fire,
but he feared the heat of the flame

at the edge of the cliff, the clarity died
he swerved and forgot her name

her midnights are lost in his midday sun
a casualty left in his crowded space
and those flashing, strobe light promises?

just a hollow echo of a temporary grace

Frail Ghost

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how much harder must it be,
to ache for the ghost who once saw me?

a softy trapped in a savage war,
a frail body pacing a sterile floor
this silence is lethal, a quiet knife,
it bled out the hope i had for this life

the connection ithought was forged in the dark
is a hollow frequency, devoid of a spark

A Couple Minutes More

the armor survived the crushing wreckage
of a silence that led to physical breakage

“distance makes the heart grow fonder,” they say —
a lie
told by those who never watched the sky turn grey

up a trailless mountain, i forced my ascent,
my pulse hit a ceiling, broken and spent

a few minutes more in that cold cul-de-sac —
a few minutes more, and there’s no turning back

Currency of Fire

i watched the lines dissolve into the deep,
a sudden weight collapsing from my chest;

the jagged friction I no longer keep
became a frozen, quiet, perfect rest

here was no bitterness —
heat fuels the fire,
and anger only binds you to the chain

claimed the space my lungs required to breathe,
free from the ghost,
untethered from the pain

Safe Keeping

you gave me the grace
to be fragile and real,

to spin all this heat
into something sublime;
i’m taking back
all that i’m worthy to feel

and leaving the rest to the coldness of time

--

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Cye
Cye

Written by Cye

i’m glad you’re here. i craft narratives and explore stories.