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Arts

Dainty

By molly wheat

An ode to femininity.

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Share link
https://covver.com/magazine/mollywheat0-qcd9/dainty-a674H7DHfWcDoCWZHdqY
Published
May 31, 2026
Pages
14

More in this magazine

  • CoverLainty
  • 0.10 10 13 onate 213DEATH DEATH OF SITUATION OR ENDINGS.
  • Page 3What are TLcing. 'Dainty' is a small ode to my femininity and the way I have navigated it through the years, from being a little girl who hated pink, to a young woman who does not. Girlhood has always been the most reliable thing in my life and I have aways been able to find solace within it. It is an experience that many are lucky to experience and I truly cherish the feminine figures within my life. In this current confusing period of my life, the idea of a divine presence has become somewhat prominent and I find myself wondering what more could be out there for a twenty-two year old girl.
  • Lucky charmsThe truth Everything must experience Don't give up.
  • And she is beautifulAnd so am I. Syconiam
  • H Perted Brings me Closer to Jed Scried GodBeing on my period is the closest I'll ever get to God. Although, I think I'd take carrying a wooden cross with thorns on my head than shedding my uterus for seven days a month until I'm 50. I reckon many women would choose the same. I think that in many ways, women are a physical counterpart for God- creators and sinners. Beautiful, divine beings. My relationship with spirituality is one that confuses me terribly. It's like discovering my sexuality all over again, calling myself something new every week. Only this time, I'm not sure I'll find the conclusion I'm looking for. Maybe the Big Man Upstairs could guide me.
  • SubsumeI sit side by side with my younger self, Unsure on whether she gazes upon me with admiration or dread. I think my mother feels the same sometimes.
  • Page 10XX DAINN
  • Luan Ling arI looked out of my window last night and saw a beauty I had never seen before. There was a gentle breeze drying my clothes and I could hear the turning of a page. The falling of a feaf. The sun created rainbows on my ceiling- a portal into the better self. God is opening his arms and letting me smell the flowers for the first time. If I think too hard, I can't feel pity for myself anymore. Clothes lie all over my floor, covering the remains of who I once was. I try to avoid picking them up to keep this hidden. It would be unfair to bring her out now. She has been laid to rest.
  • Page 12Son Academic Explanation re I have included a reflective selfalong with a general explanation following the creation of this zine. It felt fitting to include this within my work as this piece is rahter reflective itself and I felt it relevant to include the reasoning behind specific choices, etc. chose to make this zine as a project for myself, as well aas the girls around me. I have been told by many that they find comfort in my writing and are able to relate to many of the things I choose to highlight. I like to write about things that I feel passionately about, and in this case, it is my relationship with femininity.
  • 0.10 to 1 onate 013ACE OF WANDS NEW BEGINNINGS. BIRTH. NEW IDEAS. CREATION.
  • MOLLY WHEAT7825 13 FEMALE. 01-02-23/6/03
Text of this page

And she is beautiful

And so am I.

Syconiam

In my dreams i dance with Mother Mary

Her beautiful hair wraps around my wrists Cutting my circulation.

My veins tangle amongst themselves

And try desperately to mimic the freedom of her tresses.

She keeps me restrained until I feel like I'm dying.

  • So wreckless
  • So gentle and careful.
  • I imagine it as your flesh

The juice as your blood, We eat figs with our bare hands like animals.

And i consume every last piece of you so disgustingly, Just like you have done with I.

We verge on desparation for eachother.

You indulged so greedily when you got to my heart.

I have cried one hundred and forty five tears

One for every day I have known you.

A glass half full.

You drink my sorrow in one sip, Salt lingering on your lips you simply ask for another glass.

And The dress you were once so fond of is now stained with our blood, sweat and tears. I have kept it in a glass box ever since- An exhibition for my eyes only. Preserved for my own secret religion. I light candles around your display Careful not to scorch your remains And I pray to you every night.