May 9, 2017

Four Poems by Cydney Clouse: "Home", "Her", "Broken Bottle", and "I Am the Sun"

Cydney Clouse is a twenty year old from Inidnapolis, Ind., with a passion for writing, but never having enough courage to share it. You can either find her on Tumbler at Sincerely-Cydney posting nightly using #CydClo, or eating Sherbet ice cream… probably both.





Home

       His voice was soft and cold as he whispered in my ear at his friend’s party.

“Can we go home?”

Home. Something I thought of often. The comfort the word gave me when he said it. We.” As in, him and I. Home. As if we lived together. Where ever he was, was home to me.

“Yes.” I said, pressing my forehead to his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

“Let’s go home.”



Her

     Her heart was
Gold-
Like dandelions blowing in the wind, her heart
Flew-
Like planes in the night sky carrying lovers to a far away
Destination-
Where they could fall deeper into the abyss of happiness and
Troubles-
They all faced would soon wash away like the ocean-
Her mind wandered deep, deep down to the
Unknown-
Depths of her heart, she locked it all up and threw away the
Key-
He held in his hands the nights he asked her to marry
Him-
the perfect specimen to spend eternity with
Until-
He saw the blond on the street with the blues eyes-
Where strangers could watch thousands of untold stories in the glazed glass of her pupils.
She wants enough.
And her heart cried and she thought she wouldn’t survive.
But-
That was two years ago.
Her heart aches for eternity, but she is alive.
Still breathing steady breaths, only holding it underwater like she did before he was more than a name in her phone.
And since then she’s witnessed 2 more heartbreaks, a death In the family, a lost pet, a failed job.
But-
She’s is alive.
And she never thought she would get through that heartbreak. Or the next one. Or the death, the lost job, the runaway friends.
But she did.




Broken bottle

        Oh, but I do not have capacity for love.
For I am a nothing but a broken window.
A broken bottle.
A shard of glass.
That will cut you if you touch me.
But I will get stuck in you.
I will bury myself in your aching hands
while you bleed and you try to clean me out.
I can love you the best that I can,
But life has only taught me to cut things that try.




I Am The Sun

       I am the sun

I waited.
And before I knew it all the thunderstorms that followed me around had let up
and sunshine peeked through the rough, dark clouds and there was a patch of 
light that would always be one step ahead of me as if it were leading me down
a road I would have not followed on my own.
And when people said they saw rainbows and butterflies when they were joyous, 
they were not lying. Because soon enough my body was covered in beautiful 
painted wings shimmering in the golden sun and every single color of the rainbow
painted my skin as if I were the portrait Leo loved so much.
I may be mismatched shapes, and different sizes, but I was a colorful work of art
that someone would proudly display in their front hall.
I was no longer a rain cloud that threw lightning bolts at passerbys. I was no 
longer drowning guests in rainfall so they couldn’t leave their homes to see their 
loved ones.
I was the sun.
I.
Me.
No one else in my own little world.
But me.




           © Cydney Clouse










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