Chloe Lyda

Chloe Lyda

Pronouns: she/her/hers

Chloe is a fourth year studying Government, English, Global Sustainability, and Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies. When she isn’t writing four page stories or multiple poems in a series, she is hiking with her friends, in meetings at Alumni Hall, or running down Grady Avenue. She loves English Breakfast tea, and the day doesn’t feel complete without listening to a few songs. “Backyard Boy” by Claire Rosinkranz is the current go-to.

quote bubbles with one in the center that says "F*CK UVA"

“Maybe I’m biased because I don’t like him.”

spider plants hanging in pots

I sometimes wonder if I have pockets full of invisible nickels that try to ground me on the days I don’t know what I’m doing.

lungs with a pink background

“In through your nose, out through your mouth
in through your nose, out through your mouth”


green water with pink fish with pink hooks in their mouths

It’s not alright and it hasn’t been alright, not since you yelled at me over flowers, but the flowers weren’t really the issue.

some ladybugs sitting on green leaves

Did you know that ladybugs like honey?

a red and purple scene with purple fists in the background

“We” being my generation—specifically those of us currently in college. We have been getting constantly ragged on for being lazy and disorganized, and uncaring.

a slice of birthday cake with candles on top

It was that burning sensation,
the one that grabs hold
at the base of your throat,
and you cough as if that will help.

two hands with leaves between and around them in autumnal tones

warm, autumnal orange
the kind that made me want
to grab my docs, and a pair of shears
and make the 26 minute drive to Chiles
to pick the perfect pumpkin

silhouette of a person with red cloudy sunset bakcground

The claiming of the presents I wrapped was to keep the peace, the lying was to protect themselves—everyone needs protection, right?

many blue eye shapes surrounded by red and white wavy lines

But they were dunnock blue.

Holding contact was

the easy part.

face having teeth pulled by a string with a pattern heavy background

A trembling that I couldn’t identify. A glance around the room—Kira across from me, Emma to my left, my professor of two years to my right. A reading I had done at least three times before. A comment that I knew made sense. And yet, I’m trembling. It may have started while my hand was raised. Look at her shoes, and hers and hers.