Just a Silvia
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theladysilvia.bsky.social
Just a Silvia
@theladysilvia.bsky.social
300 followers 240 following 4.1K posts
Queen of the Ward
Unpoet, dream reporter.


"Good and evil match perfect, it's a great romance"

Elliott Smith
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theladysilvia.bsky.social
Nocturne

curtains at the windows,
odd hourglass fashion,
milky light measured,
sand of evening falling.

later,
streets hollow,
steps slow,
sand swallowed.
November 27, 2025 at 7:39 PM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
As feigned madness taints,
fates intertwined, only healed
by river, poison.

(inspired by Hamlet and Ophelia)
November 27, 2025 at 1:51 PM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Six-foot white rabbit,
imaginary smiles back,
“I prefer you too.”

(Inspired by the classic film Harvey, 1950)
November 27, 2025 at 11:44 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Way i split my dreams in two, like elvish waybread to cross the hirst, to quench a thirst. out of the town, out of the forest, the road runs long, supplies grow thin. yet even divided, dreams endure, still carrying their fragrant lure. i split my dreams in two, like elvish waybread and what was shared restored, and grew.
November 27, 2025 at 8:11 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
This is nspired by the guitar in Son of Sam by Elliott Smith... a place I sometimes live

youtu.be/afeAUndotas?...
SOS A minor sighs in the corner, guitar stutters to enter the tune, bass notes slide, half‑sob, half‑sigh. Major bursts like glass in sunlight, a neverending slide of shards, cut short, returning to shadow. The melody gasps, arpeggios sliding, each fall unresolved, just a soul straining to survive. Please wrap me in your strings, your madness, hold me like the lingering ring of E minor.
November 26, 2025 at 10:38 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Stop! My whole life a constant hurry, everything dissolving, vague, blurry. A pause in the noise, not a scream, just silence folding in. Throw me down in some century, millennia without name that time can’t claim. I never really existed, only outlines remain, a sketch in passing, half‑lit, half‑plain.
November 26, 2025 at 8:28 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
#emoetry #jovial
Gestures A genius juggling numbers and letters, jovial in judgment. A genie, gentle, jingling jewels on wrists and ankles, granting joy. A djinn of fire, gleaming, grave, born of danger, a gauge of freedom. A jester drawing tricks out of its jaunty costume, glance glowing with jokes. You can join the gestures, or drift beyond the journey.
November 26, 2025 at 7:58 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Building on the first floor boots strike pavement, voices open wide, restore sight, even to luck, even to love on the top floor no one is seen, windows in frost, beliefs suspended, a garden still in bloom on the second floor they drag a dance, shrugging the others, with the moon above, and stars they don’t name running up the stairs to the roof, to see the city breathing, ending up back in the street, the building silent, facade familiar
November 25, 2025 at 10:46 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Need need , two small e’s, narrow eyes pressed together, petty, mean, a sound that shrinks a vice with a double core splitting peace like a wedge in wood its coils tighten, cutting deeper until nothing remains like a flourish of want not hunger, not desire, but a cage dragging downward, reiterating , you cannot escape still, need
November 25, 2025 at 7:21 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Forensic We leave fingerprints on every slate, pressed into each forgotten zone. Memory arranges them as trace, quiet proof of what we’ve shown. We spend our days with buckets and rags, chemicals designed to erase, yet in the dark they’re luming on... marks that refuse to efface. A part of us is caught in those prints, stretching across the years, like a wave both gentle and breaking, illegible through our fears. Still their stains wait in silence, a record we cannot escape, catalogued deep within shadows, a cold case none can reshape.
November 24, 2025 at 12:53 PM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
His Loose Waltz my solitude curls around yours like smoke when wind bends flashes of soul your echo remains timeless, it blends and how sweet your voice when softly it says not yet, not yet not time for our dust not time for our dance together, not yet, not yet
November 24, 2025 at 11:46 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Monday The white sky feeds faith, low like a warm sigh in midair slipping, sliding, slowly down from impassive aerials, across the tiles, the trunks, the trembling tones of scattered singing colours. A fragile leap, it lingers, it lives, it loosens the heart, a winding passage, wavering, weightless, of a nameless lord
November 24, 2025 at 10:35 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Beach The wave wanders across the sand an instant and it is gone the lighthouse lifts a little light from the night the bow breaks the blue but the trail trembles and disappears like quicksilver slipping softly when seagulls scatter and I don’t know care less care more care nothing at all and it is gone
November 24, 2025 at 7:21 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
I dreamed that I was an Occitan troubadour... but when I woke up the rhymes were gone... a freestyle 😄 #Dansa
Dream #20 Funny how detours bring us home I wandered too far, a journey broken Dim light, amber and uneven Air heavy with memory, time slowed, Funny how detours bring us home Smell of ale, polish, and smoke Even if no one smokes anymore He slid a napkin across the table: “Funny how detours bring us home” The gift was not paper, but belonging The quiet miracle of recognition Finding myself in another soul, Funny how detours bring us home
November 23, 2025 at 6:55 PM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Cats capture starlight,
Arabesques on dark carpets,
Glowing from round eyes.
November 23, 2025 at 8:11 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Details Jaded, clueless jigsaw, patience, imagination, hands at work. Maybe it’s abstract, maybe a piece is missing. Shades plead, shades code the quest. Strength and delicacy, slowly it melts, slowly it settles, slowly it seals the neat rectangle. Now I behold: not a sunset’s warm red sky, but flames — rising, resounding, a postcard sent from hell.
November 23, 2025 at 7:33 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Weight Sometimes I feel a fool, the world is cruel, giving less than it takes, prodigal with mistakes. But aren’t we all fools when, with clouded eyes, we taste poison in every cup fate pours? Each time life reaches out with a soft caress, we flinch, imagining daggers in her hand. Why can’t we be like trees in winter, still loving the snow, despite its weight on fragile branches about to break?
November 23, 2025 at 6:23 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Discard No one buys roses or candies. No one unlaces their boots. No one listens to their disc. No one plays with broken dolls. Would it make a change to look outside the window? Neither a rainy country road, nor the Champs Élysées, nor Angeles alters the fate of stray toys, early touched by the veil.
November 22, 2025 at 3:03 PM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Saturday Only fools would walk today. The park is empty; the leaves, soaked in rain, refuse to answer me, neither the rusty, childish creak of swings nor the dark feathers smoothed in the nest. In my green alcove I slide into daydreams, adrift in absence, when even the rain has given up on weight. I try to light a cigarette with a stick of lipstick.
November 22, 2025 at 9:49 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Fur We lay curled in winter’s hush, small beasts with gentle breath, resting in warm despair. Our tender coats still shelter the ache we cannot release. Afraid of spring’s open gaze, we close our eyes to its lean, end meets end eternally within the sweet trance we keep, ourselves enthralled by sorrow.
November 22, 2025 at 8:36 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
November 22, 2025 at 7:42 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Elegy Some are never given the chance to find the missing piece, just when life and waist both are bound so tight, waiting, aching, to be embraced. Other gifts were ours once, but they lie behind us, and we dare not turn, lest memory undo us. So we remain, absence‑gaunted faces, haunted by stars, constellations of which we are not part.
November 22, 2025 at 7:06 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Fallen Infinity has fallen, folds of pride pulled under, boasting drowned in brine, its omnipotence undone. The ocean weighs its silence, heedless waves press deep, while stars throw ropes of radiance, their light a fragile plea. Sailors mourn the quiet, lament the savage glare, for time itself lies hidden in the salt‑stained air.
November 22, 2025 at 5:40 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Transit A taxi ride in a hurry shows streets out of no place. We are the details, half cosmetics, half scenery. We go down the same stairs, we cross the same squares. We design billboards, backdrops, backbone for changes, lights, and hopes. All on the same ground, but blaming fate cannot read, secluded across the ocean, or maybe two.
November 21, 2025 at 11:43 AM
theladysilvia.bsky.social
Reaction Let the cold wind become your breath, wrap you in frosty threads, insinuate needles, take root in your poor atoms like mad ions, until you feel nothing, only the august song of time. For life is a waft, and only the thaw can teach it, sweet with sweat, burning cheeks, singing blood, afterwards.
November 21, 2025 at 8:41 AM