#cyc.

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🌻 pls luv me 🥺✨

IF YOU’D DIE FOR WHAT YOU LOVE, THEN I WANT YOUR CORPSE AT MY FEET —

your god’s damnation was a kiss — ( such a foolish, human thing ) — but take it as a lesson: lips pressed to cheek is such a sweet condemnation and you’ll be turning the side of your face just to have me do it all over again to you. some things are worth dying for, i suppose. your sins never had anything to do with it. 

the soft unfurling of wings unused, all sinew and bone-sharp, crowns made from jewels stolen and looking better on thieves than they do on kings. crimson skirts drag in the lakewater like a bride down an aisle to her execution, rooting selves in the center of small deaths, eye of a hurricane resting but never not watching. your eyes blink the wrong way ( down-up; reptilian, charming ) — and men come from their kingdoms to conquer woman-beasts only to love them instead. only to die for it, for me. 

lovely, dangerous thing. history will never write you quite right but what does it matter? the earth remembers, as does this skin. you make an art of it and i can’t stop staring. 

✨ send me your favorite flower emoji and i will describe the aesthetic that you give off! ✨

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word / less by cyc

a collection of 20 questions said & unsaid and of answers never given. i rearrange the letters quietly and hope they mean enough in the silence.

download available here  |  cover & formatting by @lxcuna

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double love suicide | @lxcuna

EMMA & NATHANIEL: starshine and sunspots made dim-lit in comparison next to you; just as unreachable across the room

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setsuna | @lxcuna

there must be something haunted here; ghost of teeth tugging at skin, touches leaving shiverings. something watches us from the undergrowth; flickering between radio-line static, softly humming, telling us to follow them home. 

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double love suicide | @lxcuna

which is a slower death, do you think? the offer to make your body into the ash that coats your lungs or the loving of someone who doesn’t know how to love you back?

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🌸

the bed is still empty even when your body’s in it, my dear little ghost. starlight is the only thing that makes you real and on cloudy nights you stand under streetlamps, waiting for the light to spark something in your veins. there’s someone watching from the window of the fourth house down, thinks of you like one would a favourite song forgotten; words missing but melody still trailing off lips, humming softly. there is always a special kind of intimacy between strangers, a kind of temporary that i can stomach; blur in the corner of photographs, coffee rings on used tables. 

leather jackets hanging off shoulders, shoelaces untied — you stumble just to feel the ground under your feet, go out in hopes of being un/seen. there’s that silence after the subway train you’ve just missed passes right by you, standing at the edge of the platform and dipping your head into the dark tunnel, waiting to see what will stare back at you. my little poltergeist, come back to me — i’ve bought all the glass vases from the thrift store and i’ve lined them up for you to break as you please. sing for me and i promise i’ll cut my fingers on all the edges when we get around to the cleaning. 

✨ send me your favorite flower emoji and i will describe the aesthetic that you give off! ✨