She recently changed her Instagram name to Cyra. Time now to share another poem by this poetess. We recently covered her handwritten poem. This time it’s a typewriter-like poem.
About the poet
Cyra uses only dates to define the title of her work. She is not the only poet who does this. Some poets feel more comfortable thinking about the poems itself, than the title. The absence of the title doesn’t feel uncomfortable when reading the poems written by Cyra. If you want to check out more about this poetess, feel free to follow her on Instagram.
I saw you standing at the bottom of the cliff,
You call out to me.
I inch forward; slowly, cautiously
A gust of wind passes and I scurry away
Again you beckon –
Reassuring me, comforting me.
It’s cold up here, dry and desolate
With your promises of milk & honey,
I let go.
I fall –
Only to find that you were never there to catch me
A mirage, a figment of my imagination.
As I lay there beaten and bruised – I look up
I miss that dry, desolate place.