#cassiopeiapoetry

[cassiopeia-rising]

Carpe Diem; seize the day,

Don’t let your life just slip away.

Find the courage in your voice,

And take what is yours.

[cassiopeia-rising]

Moonlit Moments

Midnight, our time. The time I get to see you, feel you, and love you.

The time when a dark silence fills the town, where the cold night air keeps everyone behind closed doors. Everyone but us — because during these times we get to finally meet.

I get to see how the silver moon illuminates your smile. I get to feel your touch, gentle and true. At these moments we don't have to hide— not our love, not our bodies, and not each other.

Midnight, the only time when we get to be free, free to do what we want, with the people we want.

How I wish this could go on. No more hiding, no more pretending. But it's only midnight.

Hidden moments at "midnight" — thanks to @thenightquill, and hosted by @picklemafia.

[cassiopeia-rising]

Heatwave of Us

The heatwave burns my skin, Like our love does me from within. I think of you and wonder, How long it will take for me to go under.

The summertime is fleeting, Yet we always keep on repeating. We stand on the rooftop, And I wonder if we will ever stop.

The city beneath our feet, Left in an agony of heat. Sidewalks crack in the summer glow, And the truth is—that I know…

As the skyline stretches into a fading hue, All my thoughts stray to you.

Shadows stretch with words unspoken, Promises bent, yet never broken. And all that I can do is pray, That our flame will never fade or go away.

Inspired by fleeting summer nights and the intensity of love—my take on the heatwave prompt by @wrentalks and hosted by @picklemafia

[cassiopeia-rising]

To Burn, To Be

The blank pages wait like a frozen death— Unseen, unheard, and uncared for. Hidden from the world behind a shadow of fear.

But to write is to prove. To be. To say: I am here. To map in words who you are, who you were, and who you will become.

To write is to ignite a fire— one that may spread, may burn, may shine.

To show: I was here. And you will never be forgotten.

Written for the prompt “ignite” — by @faemaril, hosted by @picklemafia.

[cassiopeia-rising]

Bound

Secrets unravel turning it all around, making us grovel— and now we are bound.

Shattered and small, we brace ourselves for the fall.

The truth hits us like thunder, as we all went under.

Not for love, nor by choice— but because you swallowed our voice.

Inspired by the one-word prompt ‘unraveling’ by @myharshwordspoetry, hosted by @picklemafia.

[cassiopeia-rising]

Sparks

The Sun lights our path, While sparks obscure all our sight, Leaving us astray.

Sometimes even the smallest spark can cause more confusion than guidance.

This is my second poem—and my first ever haiku—written for the one-word prompt spark, created by @peepeepoopoo3d and hosted by @picklemafia. hope you don't mind

[cassiopeia-rising]

Serendipity: You Never Know

The wrong train, the wrong stop, the wrong time.

All went wrong that day — and yet everything was right.

Was it fate, or fabrication?

An old coat made of dust, an old friend not spoken to in years, reuniting with the unknown

in an unfamiliar neighborhood — a cozy café fills the air with cinnamon, a view of the hills and trees, silent in the after-day glow.

What were the chances of our meeting?

Written for the prompt “Serendipity,” thanks to @i-am-the-writer and the ever-delightful @picklemafia. This piece owes a small debt to the dictionary.

[cassiopeia-rising]

Writing with only sensory details is way harder than it sounds — it was a great challenge.

Thank you @versesbyaaliyah!

🕯️ The Candlelit Memory Challenge

My vision blurred— salt in my mouth.

My ears thudded, sound echoed, but nothing louder than my breath.

Cold linoleum under my knees.

Then—your embrace: warm and grounding, cotton against my cheek.

No more spinning. Breath slowing.

I stayed.

—

Prompt: Describe a memory using only sensory detail — what was heard, smelt, tasted, touched, or seen. Don’t name the actual event. Let us feel it.