Cressida

United States

she/her | mixed
aspiring scientist and writer | musician

status: constantly eating cheetos

joined: late april, 2020

Message to Readers

I kind of wrote it to be read out loud, and I have utterly no idea why since I do not share my poems with literally anyone but the internet.

plastic pills and spring days

June 21, 2020

FREE WRITING

18
See, she was talking to those men in the ivory coats that day,
the men with the cruel metal instruments and cures to seemingly
all diseases but hers (and you still can't seem to remember
if it was summer or winter, spring or autumn, but the air held

something to it -- humid, sticky like wet parchment. There was
a certain weightiness to it), and she didn't seem any different,
but a smile bloomed across her face like spring's blossoming touch
had willed it to when she came back to the kitchen table.

She said that her disease would not reach her brain, would not
force her to forget about her life, her children.
She said that her disease would not spread to her eyes, would not
steal her sight away but would only continue devour her flesh 

cyclicly, as if her own cells adored adorning themselves
with the membraneous remains of its kin. 
And even saying this now, you feel like her words
will turn to falsities, the universe's cruel fatal joke. 

You know, her medicine bottles still line the kitchen cabinets,
plastic soldiers prepared to start a war within her body,
shoot down her lustful lymphocytes with pharmaceutic
bullets. Her hair still falls to the floor in ebony halos.

Her legs are still splattered with mauve and scarlet
like rancid fruit or a dark oil painting. It's funny
how not getting worse never meant getting better,
and she's stuck in that in-between again,

her wet tears stinging her eye sores, unvalidated
because this damned disease might not kill her,
but it will pour hellfire into her veins, scorch her nerves.
At least I will still remember you, she whispers.

(and of course, now you remember belatedly that it was spring
that day, May in fact, because spring is where the flowers
and seeds burst full and plump only to wither away
when winter hits).
I think I would appreciate feedback on this more so than my other poems. I always thought about writing something about this (my mother has some sort of rare disease, and dang do we have so many medicine bottles). I feel like it has some potential to it? I don't know, it's a bit more personal than I would like to share on the vast, empty internet, so I might take it down later. 

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  • June 21, 2020 - 7:33pm (Now Viewing)

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7 Comments
  • crow_e

    there are so many things i love about this piece but the last stanza is my favourite - it ties everything together in a neat cycle with a metaphor. this is really powerful! i'd write a review but i have nothing critical to say about this other than it's a masterpiece and i can't get over how good it is


    5 months ago
  • elliem

    Hey there ;)
    #rollthedice contest results are out!
    https://writetheworld.com/groups/1/shared/173543/version/346304


    5 months ago
  • mia_:)

    This is beautiful! I am so sorry about your mom, but you were able to channel it into a great piece of art!
    "plastic soldiers prepared to start a war within her body,
    shoot down her lustful lymphocytes with pharmaceutic
    bullets. Her hair still falls to the floor in ebony halos."

    That there is amazing. I also love the line about the oil painting. This piece has some real potential! I love it!!!!


    6 months ago
  • Doodleninja

    wow you have a way with words that you paint such a clear image in my mind of this event, this conflict; that whole stanza about the "plastic soldiers" waging war...exquisite
    I totally understand if you want to take it down, but I'm glad I got the chance to see it :D


    6 months ago
  • joella

    this is absolutely gorgeous! please don't take it down :) review coming soon!


    6 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    "It's funny
    how not getting worse never meant getting better,
    and she's stuck in that in-between again,"
    Oh gosh... I have no words.


    6 months ago
  • happy butterfly

    This is so beautiful


    6 months ago