my mind is going in circles

am I turning purple?

I forgot to breath again

I can’t stop clenching my jaw

every emotion is raw

I feel myself losing

the present

slipping away

from my mental state

wandering aimlessly

through my headspace

nails piercing my palm

I can’t stop clenching my jaw

I forgot to breath again

Part II

easy does it

a deep breath in and a

deep breath out

I’m holding on only

because it took me way

too long to find myself

(observation)

sit with me

endless futures

golden key

it took me way too long

to find myself

I hold my hand

take a pause

take a pause

silent applause

for myself

somehow

I made it this far

and I finally feel at home inside

heart greet calm

mind meet free

learning how to simply be

while mastering insanity

Part III

shame

spiral

break

me

down

how did I let this happen again

my stomach churns

wasps sting my gut

every emotion is

lightening

across a stormy sky

my heart booms

thunder

rain

falls

from nowhere and

everywhere

it lands on my hands

the world

in my palms

the heavens

on my shoulders

Part IV

am I happy

or just numb?

contentment found me

I don't deserve it

but…

I feel……

alright…?

Trust kisses my cheek

a breeze shakes my hand

am I numb?

my lips move

without permission

my tongue bleeds

because of my bite

a metallic flavor

delectable

thoughts submerged

I could stay (here) in this (head)space

forever

Part V

hope is fickle

she dances with fate and

bargains with desperation

hope crowds your heart

and chuckles at trouble

fear of the fallout

fear of the fall

dreams

are dangerous

yet, warmth

flows

around me

when my spirit remembers

that every day

is an opportunity

The cycle of healing continues, an ouroboros, flattening me with every inhale. My tongue burns from the sourness of Ego. The gears in my mind are rusted and I’m sick of the voice in my head. I forsake my intuition; I question its reliability. Easily, so easily, I loathe the parts of me that are soft and loving. My awareness and compassion become my enemy. I curse my nails bit down, down, down to the point of bleeding. I curse my teeth. I curse my cheeks for smiling when inside I am frostbitten and black.

But the cycle of healing continues — an ouroboros. Every once in a while, I exhale. Tensions leaks from my pores and forgiveness multiplies in every cell. The shore evaporates leaving grains of sand that are only hot to the touch until nightfall. Then, the moon rises and I can see the constellations.

Leave a comment

Sincerely,
All I really want
Is to hear
Is a sincere
“You’re doing great”

Leave a comment

🪱 I’m glad you’re here 🪱

Leave a comment

I’ll return to reality tomorrow…

Fidgeting fingers
Clenching jaw
Tired tongue

Few resources at my disposal
I am my greatest tool

I am a tool

Use me where you see fit
Cut off all my flowers
And use my stems and leaves to tie knots into bows
My petals will litter your footpath
Guiding the way to success

Hammer me in like a nail
I’ll hold it all together
I’ll be the sandpaper to dull the sharp edges

Forget the clashing metal
Forget sleep
Forget heart

A rusted Cadillac in your garage
Still capable of driving
You take me out on weekends

A pine tree chopped and covered in glittering lights
You water me and pretend it is enough to keep me alive.

I plaster a smile on my face that is wielded like magic
I spray perfume on my hair to remind you of my femininity
May it be used to benefit me so I can benefit you.

Agreeable
Boundless

If I’m being honest
I don’t know how I do it.

Robotic in my consistency
Long lasting battery

You’re welcome for all my shadow work
I did it for you.
I pulled the threads of myself to be sewn into a warm blanket
So I can cover you when you’re cold.

Come now - hush. rest.
You are taken care of.

More of my photography → here

Leave a comment

Subscribe now

Is this the upside-down?

I can feel my blood moving toward my heart.
Mud comes through my teeth and stars are at my feet.

Do I dare try and move when I can’t walk on my hands?

Music falls from my mind and lands on the tips of my fingers.
Magic is cast with a single point, a chant echoing in silence.

I’d light you on fire, but I’m tired of fighting.

What if I stop?
Why should I prove myself to you?

I inhale suffering and exhale contentment.
She can have it, I love her.

I’m pretty sure I’d give away my ears to hear her laugh.

I offer my tongue as a gift to my soul —
I never again want to taste the bitterness of my ego.

I plunge my hands into constellations.

Water rushes underneath my fingernails.
Grass grows from my pores and flowers bloom behind my eyes.

If this is the upside-down, I think I’ll stay.

More of my photography →click me

Leave a comment

(Anonymous)

A moonless night sky is bright with stars

Crows rest on headstones, silent and looking at me.

The cathedral looks regal and wary.

Did someone call my name?

I look to my left, and see an angel of stone bowing her head.

Mist kisses my veins.

The sky looks beautiful, but the air stales in my lungs.

The smell of iron unsettles me slightly.

I look to my feet and my shadow seems to decompose.

A single sunburnt rose blooms in its wake.

I am met with stillness, and my bones forget their unrest.

Part 2

(Death, revered)

I call the moonless night to shine bright with stars beyond.

I ask the crows for a moment of silence.

The cathedral is patient, waiting for you.

Your name is offered to the wind.

I wield time, sending a mist to kiss beneath your vein.

The angels bow their heads.

Your shadow decomposes first in fair warning.

Earth rises to honor your body, but your soul reunites with me.

Part 3

(Fate)

The cathedral is solemn, but unmoving.

Crows sit silent on headstones honoring those who never get to say goodbye.

The wind sings a song of the nameless —

They’re the reason an angel bows her head.

Mist will kiss the vein; the sky will bruise with light.

Air turns to rust in the lungs.

The hourglass stops turning and a shadow falls.

Balance is found in the forest’s exhale,

for all is well in the inevitable.

Leave a comment

nothing new

breath is caught

breath knows truth

open ocean

open sky

tears devotion

but… why?

lost

cause

moss

lost

trees

frosted

blue

purple

bleeds

identity

retract my claws

my hope, too

blue is sorry

blue is groggy

left my body

satin zombie

shadowed warmly

midnight stormy

pathetic lull

touching my soul

vision cloudy

shame speaks loudly

melting highway

blue is downplayed

trustless

stuckness

runaway

forgotten fungus

eaten anyway

Understand the rage
Witness the despair.
I know I am seen by you.
I met your morning crows.

I will not be afraid of terror.
I will put down my shield
to behold the nightmares,
courage and surrender my only armor.

Eyes wide open in the darkness,
let me see and I will let it ache.
If I am bound to be destroyed,
let wisdom breathe amongst the rubble.

Dorcha, if this is truly inescapable - come.
Take my hand. Ride
with me
through madness.

Epona’s wild daughter, or Dorcha, is a fae being from Froud's The Faeries Oracle Deck. Mysterious and earthly, she cauterizes wounds.

Dorcha forces us to discern our nightmares and shadowed self. She cracks us open through radical confrontation, driving us to face our fears, denials, and suppressions.

Dorcha’s dark, tough love will ultimately uncover hidden potential and wisdom. At her core, she represents perilous magic, healing, and the intuitive unknown.

Leave a comment

I’ll return to reality tomorrow…

I collect stones and stickers and thoughts.

I believe I was created to unearth my intuition, though it seems to be constantly evading me.

I was recently told I have “perfectionist tendencies” and now I can't unsee it. I also have a tendency to change my mind and have no idea what I'm doing.

I think the sound of food hitting the ground is funny and I collect daggers in preparation for the apocalypse.

I write poetry because choosing the right word satisfies me, and sometimes poems are the only shape a feeling will fit into.

Most of my writing hovers around themes of identity, healing, and raw emotional experience.

When I’m not writing, I’m probably fawning over my six-month old, tending plants that may or may not survive, staring at crows like they know something I don’t, or trying to remember where I left my phone.

For 37.5 hours a week, I’m a program director of a detox. If you are sober today, I’m in awe of you.

I’m a writer, a lucky wife, a mother, and a mental wanderer.

I am also so much more.

I’m glad you’re here.

If you're looking for the “stones and stickers” version of my soul, start here:

Too Much To Keep You - Poem

Through A Teddy Bear's Eyes - Short Story

There's a Wolf in The Woods - Poem

A Morning Crow - Poem

🧿🧿🧿

Poetry Collections:

Postpartum: Where the Light Doesn't Reach

Fisherman: A Collection of Love Poems

Subscribe now

Subscriber Information:

Free Subscribers:

• all poetry, short stories, and essays

• subscriber chat

Paid Subscribers:

• a tarot card pulled upon request twice a year

• Custom piece or independent research of topic of choice

Founding Members:

• full tarot card readings at the beginning of Summer and Winter (or) a tarot card per request up to 12 times a year

Leave a comment

I’ll return to reality tomorrow…

A morning crow,
I see you.
I hear you on the highway.

A morning crow,
Why are you alone?
Why do the mornings reveal you?

Why do you humble me?

A morning Crow,
What is the right question?
Tell me what to witness.

You do not beg to witness while
bleeding midnight into my sunrise.

Ashen bubbles pop on sight —
the deep surrendering within.

Then tepid rivers touch my bones,
but I never feel a chill.

A morning crow,
My third eye whirls.

Even though thinking drowns my gut,
intuition still cradles every breath.

I hear you.

On the threshold of my day…
Is it alignment?
Is it serendipity?
Is it coincidence?

Nothing to say.
No message to pass.
You don't see me, crow.
But we share this moment
All the same.

Leave a comment

I'll return to reality tomorrow…

The new moon brought with it a hollow stillness that left the Devil restless. So at the moon’s first light, he harvested sin and thorns to craft eight cursed sisters. He wished them to be undying, so he made their hearts from stone. He wished them to be clever, so he stole the feathers and beaks from crows and crushed them together to make their brains. He wished them to be beautiful, so he plucked stars from the sky and settled them in their eyes. He wished them to be powerful, so he gave them each a gift.

Eleanor moved where darkness pooled and had razor sharp teeth. She was the silence before disaster.

Ivory could spit acid. Mold grew at her fingertips, and anything she touched went through a living decay.

Maisie was a master of dark magic. Her specialty was brewing sweet-smelling poisons that could siphon a soul.

Clover could peel shadows from the ground and turn them sentient, operating on their own free will. Her voice could be heard disembodied through their mouthless existence.

Selma would shed her skin and reshape her bones. She lured people in by speaking in the voices of the beloved dead.

Beth controlled water. She would laugh as she filled lungs with fluid, caused floods, turned water into blades, and summon reversed rain.

Marin cast delusions and hallucinations — waking nightmares. She placed vile thoughts in minds, created visions of their worst fears, and could warp time to trap people in a state of freeze.

For a fortnight, the Devil cherished his daughters. He was devoted, spending all of his time with them. He delighted in how they tortured souls and caused mayhem and bloodshed, not particular of who was a victim of their gifts.

They were perfect.

But, by the full moon, he grew bored of them. He found their beauty repetitive, their cruelty rehearsed.

He became neglectful.

They became desperate.

Bitter and angry, the sisters abandoned the Devil and his Hell. Disgusted by the beauty and joys of Earth, they traveled wreaking havoc. Secretly, they hoped to gain the attention of the Devil once more…

Sin and mud-born flesh are fused

Leeches leaving moldy bruises

Rotten breath and raven caws

Shadows oozing from the walls

Silence that will eat you whole

A smell so sweet may steal your soul.

Reversed rain falls in the night

And nightmares wake with open eyes.

Phantom laughs, bone and tongues,

Stagnant water, quiet hums.

Red lips curl to sharp-toothed smiles

Breath on your neck, throat full of bile.

Vacant eyes make ashen tombs

Draw their gaze — and they come for you.

I’m glad you’re here.

Leave a comment

This is a response to the color prompt by

I am usually pensive purple; anxiety turns my mind orange.

descend into my identity

where there is a deep, velvety purple

unfolding inward

everything is a malleable magic

a dripping mysticality

a humming lullaby

skipping pebbles across a dark lake

inhale and hold your breath

midnight is now

memory is beholden

Ouroboros

the question and the answer

a velvet lake turns to lava

midnight splits

tik. tik.

answer be damned

Autumn is aflame

copper swarms

venom buries

blackened matches have no spark

and a flower sorting steam

rusts then becomes

a pity

exhale the endless

don’t touch the snake

I’m glad you’re here.

Leave a comment

1. Identity is an illusion.

   Ideals, flaws, values… these shape character.

   Self-acceptance leads to contentment.

2. Strength is a bottomless pit.

   You only have to be willing to dig.

3. Nine months is a long time.

   Six months is a long time.

   Live and life will not pass you by.

4. Life is full of learning curves.

   There are rarely paths forward.

   If you see one — take it.

5. Enjoying the “little things” is important for survival.

   Stickers, steam from a coffee cup, a thirty minute nap...

   Moments of peace are found in small things.

6. Affirmations work.

   You just have to create your own and mean it.

7. Motherhood is an exclusive club.

   Parenthood is an exclusive club.

8. Forgiveness is a cure for resentment.

   Forgive them.

   Forgive yourself.

9. Feeling deeply forces a romance for life.

   Thoughtfulness, introspection, and creativity are born from this gift.

   Be grateful for it.

10. Happiness is an emotion, not a choice.

    Gratitude is a choice.

    A change of perspective is a choice.

    ---

Life is 
              change

Freedom is 
     f l e e t i n g 

Autonomy is something to 
lose

Identity is a [construct]

Don't test the waters
 
                    just jump
~
Life is 
C H A N G E

Every day 
                 year
                        moment

accept yourself
forgive
explore

love and
         love
         again

           stop
asking questions
           and 
  ask questions

if it doesn't make sense, it's 
                                         because 
                                    it doesn't

    life
           is
change

~
worship N O W 
kiss the feet of the [moment]
grace and reverence

it's ok to want change
it's ok to crave new
its ok to grieve 
             what you once 
                                    wished a w
                                                          a
                                                                y

existing. is. enough.
surviving. is. enough.

~
LIFE
is change

you are not [here] forever

I wish for you happiness. I wish for you contentment. I wish for you wisdom and a life fully experienced.

I'm glad you're here.

Leave a comment

I’ll return to reality tomorrow…

Regular: Cierra

Italic: Denise

Part I

Threaten the darkness
with light
and it becomes a mirror.
Dare to look.

Watch the shadows crawl
from the corners of your soul,
wearing the faces
of everything you’ve tried to bury.

Bare hands dig through dirt.
Deep in a cellar, caged,
cold, and confused
is a child.

The darkness hums,
a lullaby stitched
from every fear
she was never allowed to speak.

The siren song
calls you to move, but
the shadows swallow
your courage whole.

Behind her teeth,
a scream grows roots,
twisting deeper
through the silence.

Nightshade on her tongue,
a noxious revelation
snakes through you,
quaking your soul.

But somewhere beyond
the cellar walls,
a single heart beat
Insists on tomorrow.

Part II

The dawn arrives
without permission,
slipping through the cracks
the darkness left behind.

An onyx exhale glitters
in the sun’s rays.
The black night etched
reminders of humanity.

No longer fleeing,
she gathers the fragments,
wearing them gently like
constellations on her skin.

Not brave, but grateful,
crystalized by her truth.
She aches and softens, each
version of herself sits beside her.

And in the quiet,
the light finds her
not as she was,
but as she is.

As the shadows disappear
from view, they whisper
their secrets from a
home she built for them.

The echoes remain,
soft as distant thunder,
yet no longer capable
of shaking the ground
beneath her feet.

She knows the darkness
may return in storms,
But for now, she holds on
to the break of day.

Thank you for reading!

• Subscribe to Cierra Angeline

  I’m glad you’re here! You are always welcome to sit beside me in the darkness. We all Bloom & Rot

• Subscribe to Denise

  This is where I tell my truth about healing, heartbreak, growth, and learning to love myself more deeply. I write from both the light and the shadow, honoring the full human experience. Through reflections from my own journey.

Leave a comment

Hot water 
kisses me

but the skin is
    falling
             off 
                 my 
                     face

blood down the drain 

             “Is that better?” 

The disembodied voice 
crescendos
through steam

             “This is what you wanted” 

Water overflows 
in my hands
muscle and tendon

A guttural scream
is        g r a v e l       in my skull

[choking]
inhaling devastation
[on]
exhaling desolation
[steam]

f r a g m e n t s
of bone
chip away

             "A gift
                for you”

I wither away

until there is

nothing

left

I’m glad you’re here.

Leave a comment

[I’m glad you’re here]

Leave a comment

In hindsight, I should have prepared for some self-doubt and reflection. I've never been surrounded by people who take the time to appreciate my writing and understand how each word is deliberate. Not just people, but a community of poets who understand because we are the same — romanticizing language, pouring a bleeding heart into metaphors that only scratch the surface of this human experience.

Lately, I've felt a lot of pressure to write and write well. The same people who make me feel seen are incredibly talented themselves, and I am (unfortunately) the kind of person who cares about what others think of me, despite my better judgement. Even though I believe in my abilities, I’ve been tripping over myself trying to rise to meet the talent of those I admire instead of existing as myself.

So, I've spent some time reconnecting with why I wanted to make a Substack in the first place — my soul needed a place to rest.

I needed my deeper, often darker, thoughts to exist outside of my singular awareness.

I wanted to share my most prized possessions and delve into my most dependable creative outlet.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a challenge. I see how my writing has improved just reading your poetry, witnessing the power of your vulnerability. But, I can’t keep up with my expectations on a good day, so I’m releasing the pressure. And I’m writing this as a reminder to myself that I am not here to prove my skill or be enjoyed. I’m here because I like to write poems.

I still plan on challenging myself, and I will write whatever the inspiration Gods gift to me; I don’t ever want to put my writing in a box, but I am returning to to my roots, my why. I’m giving myself permission to keep it simple, follow my authenticity, slow down.

I’ve been playing in tall grass.
Now I itch.
I scratched my skin raw
only to see that my blood
looks the same as it did when I was young.

Contemplating,
my self leaves me.
I try to catch it,
but it floats away
with my willingness to change.

I am not built to be seen in this world.
I am built to be a witness.
So look, but (please) don’t perceive.
Don’t knock on my door to ask me questions.
I am not your main character.

I’m pretty sure I only exist
To be your mirror.
You cannot understand me
because I was never meant to be seen.
And more and more, I’m ok with that.

For the shadows call to me
like an old friend.
And what kind of friend
would I be
if I didn’t answer?

Thank you for reading. And to my poet friends, thank you especially. You embolden and inspire me.

❤️‍🔥

Leave a comment

I know you’ve changed.

I see how you have softened. My eyes pause on the pouch every time. The way it sinks and collapses. The lines that carve into the skin where he once rested, waiting to be.

You do not quite belong to the person I once knew, and if I’m honest, sometimes I grieve her. She glistened, smooth-skinned and athletic. Untouched by this becoming. Its ironic how she, too, was hard on you. She, too, desired more and less simultaneously. If I could go back, I would tell her what I know now, and hope her to appreciate you more as she stood before the threshold.

Sometimes, I catch myself longing for her. The longing whispers that I should want her back. That I must return to her. It asks, “what will people think?” and, “am I still beautiful?” But photographs cannot hold what she carried. Beauty does not touch metamorphosis. You forged a miracle.

You called to Earth and asked for its most holy gift of creation.

You were never meant to bounce back after such a sacred summons.

You carried our son before my mind could root the new reality. You protected and nourished him. In an instant, you were no longer your first priority, and instead of deconstructing, you flourished.

I am still in awe of the space you made for him. You sacrificed comfort. You sacrificed breath. And you made it look effortless. All before our fingertips could graze his skin.

And you nurtured my trust so gently as I paced before the unknown. While I questioned my capacities, my power, you quietly grounded yourself in certainty.

How could I look at what remains and call it less? Wish away the parts of me that kept him?

This is not a ruined body. This is a temple initiated.

The threshold cannot be uncrossed. We are a story of one of life’s oldest alchemies - maiden to mother.

I will thank you for carrying me through.

I will honor the softness that once held him.

I will remember that this metamorphosis was not meant to leave us unchanged.

And I will love you not for returning to what you were, but for becoming exactly what you needed to be to bring him into this world.

Love always,

a self still arriving

I’m glad you’re here.

Leave a comment

The universe cracks open my mind.
I spill out into infinite silence, then implode.
Darkness meets me at the edge of sanity,
threatening me with unnatural stillness.
The flowers on Earth sing,
enticing me to return and grow with them,
but my soul intends to shine, not bloom.
So I capture a thousand suns,
but they turn to black holes in my hands,
and I am left once again in the deep darkness.
An asteroid enters my orbit whispering,

What if you were always meant to fold?

Ha!
I recognize the wisdom of the universe.
She expands, so must I.
Time and space have parted ways
so that I can uncover my truth.
But the darkness plays tricks on my eyes
and casts illusions of evolution.
I am devoted to this journey,
devoted to actualization.
I will find my shine.
Light-years away, I see it.
Something glistening, and shimmering, and mine.
There, written in starlight are the words,

“surrender”

My pulse booms.
I scream into the void.

No

It isn’t meant to be this way.
I demand a different message, but
the stars begin to slowly disperse,
darkness closes in.

Panicked, I scream again —

I surrender.

I surrender.

I surrender.

I let the phrase weave itself
into the fabric of my soul.
A light shines so bright
I close my eyes,
but they still burn.

It's coming from me.

My gravity shifts and I am unmade.
I am unfolding like her.
I become everything and nothing.
I am stardust yielding to itself.
A moonlit voice responds,
“Finally.
I've been holding this space,
waiting for you’re return”.

🌜 I’m glad you're here ⭐

Leave a comment

Pride

Rolling heads
Knife concealed
Hollow bones
Falsely healed

👁️

Greed

Prowling eyes
Bottomless pit
Abandoned morals
Power trip

👁️

Lust

Turning heads
Flowers cursed
Excessive candy
Unquenching thirst

👁️

Envy

Roots are rotten
Mirror breaks
Fallen flesh
Titan snakes

👁️

Gluttony

Twisted guts
Swallowed dirt
Swollen leech
Poison burnt

👁️

Wrath

Inferno burns
Tiger bite
Heavy rain
Ugly Delight

👁️

Sloth

Melting ice
Pillowed moss
Forgotten tales
Passion lost

🕸️ I’m glad you’re here 🕷️

Leave a comment