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Oct 2020 · 142
The Same
CautiousRain Oct 2020
The same mouth that kisses,
Damns you,
The same arms you run to
Swing back,
And the ones you love the most
Will hurt you,
It's all a part of the plan.
I bought a weighted blanket at like 1-2AM yesterday
Supposed to help
Jul 2020 · 108
CautiousRain Jul 2020
Let's have a quiet talk
Among our thoughts
In dreams spread far apart,
And come together
To see our distance
In simulations.

Your face is caked into impressions;
My nights had gone so long without
Sleep like this,
But if you are to litter my mind,
I can only ask for you
To let me do the same.

Sleep with images of me,
Burn them in your head,
Remind yourself how I looked
How I sound
How I feel;
Do not let your image torture me alone.

Have nightmares without me,
Find your soul shaken,
Your bones rattled,
Your skin cold and clammy;
Get uncomfortable with me,
For me,
Because of me.

This regret should linger and sour.

Every time I see you,
You should see me,
For every pang of guilt,
I hope you rot a little more,
I hope you never recover,
I hope you find discomfort in it all.

Meet me in the alleys of thought
Just so I may watch you suffer
Like I have.

Wake up in hopes you never have to sleep again.
From the draft pile
Ouch, boys-
Jun 2020 · 104
I Don't
CautiousRain Jun 2020
I don't make art anymore.
It's so tedious and eats up a part of me
that I can barely hold up.

I'd rather just be a resting body,
but that route seems to cause just the same

Tired, irritable; I want to do as much
as I do not,
and I feel like all my time goes to waste.

My reflection isn't me;
I feel like I am five
years younger than I am.
My art is fueled by the discordance
which makes it so hard to make or write.

I fluctuate:
okay to awful,
to make to give up,
I'm me, who is she?
I don't make art anymore.
haven't posted in 6mo, who the heck am I now
trying to get my **** back together, this isn't the end
Dec 2019 · 193
CautiousRain Dec 2019
There I was.
You remember, don't you?

Me; nuzzled into the crook of your neck,
my hands gripping at your shirt...
you fancied it, you know.

The embrace was warm,
and our heartbeats may have synchronized
in hopes of lulling us to sleep.

You remember all of this,
I'm certain,
but there are some things
you don't.

At approximately five or so minutes
before I buried my swollen, dark, brown eyes
into your chest,
I was choking back tears.

Every time I hugged you,
it dulled my depression just enough
for me to pretend my heart
didn't live like someone was having
a boxing match with both atriums and the aorta;
no, it was a searing pain that dulled
in moments like these,
replaced with a suffocating tension.

I knew as soon as I left you,
I would be shaking,
on the ground in panic
or digging my nails into the utmost layers
of my body;
you didn't know that this moment we shared
was more about me
masking how much pain I regularly endured,
and about using you to soothe my psyche enough
to pretend I was alright.
when you dream of painful things, you must write, write, write!
Dec 2019 · 430
CautiousRain Dec 2019
Maybe we all self-medicate,
and all of this wine
and all of my words
are my best way of doing so.
draft from october 26th; I might as well publish something, eh? not even going to change the title because I like it the way it is
Oct 2019 · 176
Puppet Strings
CautiousRain Oct 2019
These puppet string are held by me,
I’d say I’ve lost my grip,
this autopilot hand-fidget has really gone to ****.

I don’t feel the same anymore,
nothing bubbles in my chest,
but who’s to say I cannot feel
if its only feeling is in my head?

Hello, how are you?
I’m doing simple math,
The strings aren’t taut and funny how
every movement is an act.

The doll’s alive, and she does dance
but watch at your discretion,
because if you knew her once before
she isn’t the same person.
apparently last time I tried posting this it glitched out somehow
oof, no more posting on the phone, eh?
Oct 2019 · 358
CautiousRain Oct 2019
three in a row,
he swings hard,
alarm bells go,
a knife and knife
a circular ring
who's got the guts
to come clean?

Slurry of blows,
slurry of speech,
maybe there's more
to being a leech,
a man made of pride
a man made of sorrow
what's a man to do
when he can no longer borrow?
Time for some rhymes. What happens when you're stuck in a situation that forces you to get in even more trouble?
Sep 2019 · 252
Cold as Ice
CautiousRain Sep 2019
Cold as ice and cold as sin
a man that lost shouldn't've been
but he played his cards
and he played them right
cause nothing touches a man
cold as ice.
Rambles and rhyming
As ya do
Sep 2019 · 270
Alone in the Woods
CautiousRain Sep 2019
Every time I think of you
I imagine myself transported
to this notion we had of ourselves
together in the woods,
but somehow alone,
and I'd kiss your lips every morning
but it'd be bittersweet,
and I loved bitter so much at the time
that I'd melt anyway
and somehow in the woods,
in this tiny cabin,
you'd be able to hide from all your sins
and maybe you could protect me
from the bears
from the harsh weather
and from you.
my draft folder is so clogged rn
also this is a sad boi hour poem but uhhh good morning anyway
Sep 2019 · 164
CautiousRain Sep 2019
The flesh, the flesh,
it's always the flesh.

I sometimes wish I would have
given up
just to see how much
you'd try to take.
posting my drafts
Sep 2019 · 275
CautiousRain Sep 2019
It's all too much to handle;
the tangible and intangible
taunt and mock me
and the vibrations of the room shine through
this lowly, softened flesh of mine
as if to punish my existence.
trying to clear out my draft folder some
Sep 2019 · 378
Corrupted Love
CautiousRain Sep 2019
"It's not love."

Okay, sure,
so suppose I were to concede.
Then you're positing that
more than half the love I've ever received
has always and forever been null.
this has been sitting in my drafts forever
Aug 2019 · 167
Something Something
CautiousRain Aug 2019
Memory loss;
I know you're serious,
but every time you try to speak to me
I'm dropping words and sounds
like an imaginary hot potato,
thrown to me by a very rude child
who thinks making me lunge a thought
away from me counts as being safe.

I know you said something,
sounded like white noise,
sounded like the conversation
I think we're having right now,
I'm behind five sentences,
or maybe five minutes,
something there sounds about right.

Keep speaking, I can only hope to catch up,
this constant amnesia is aching
and my head is in a fog,
but I know you're serious
and you said something, something...
memory loss.
at this point as soon as I have a way to get some doctor or something I'm going to be like hey pretty sure I have dissociative amnesia, how can we fix my really ****** cognitive function
Aug 2019 · 271
CautiousRain Aug 2019
You held back with so much tension,
every time you laid a finger upon my skin,
and I never realized how much
you must've been fighting
your compulsions
to break through me.
Maybe it wasn't so romantic after all...
Aug 2019 · 135
CautiousRain Aug 2019
Soft lips, the absence,
cold hands touching a boiling ***,
all of it overwhelming.

Lisps, nothing but blurred
s's and slurred whispers
of reassurance and love.
So much blind love, so much
lying, so much forgetting,
so much resting in the
space between the absence.

I loved you once, then I
forgot, and loved you again,
and forgot, and loved you
again in memory, I have forgotten.

The absences are wavering;
they teeter like a fresh vase on the edge
near an unruly cat,
nothing tethering the events
of the slurred words from
soft LIsPS, but the
love almost did.

So I think.
The absence, or space, between being with you or not, remembering things or not, feeling or not.
Aug 2019 · 137
CautiousRain Aug 2019
The man I loved is dead and gone
and rest before me, a carcass;
his shaky hands and shaky breaths
are almost fully silenced.

I don't recognize that sound of his,
unusual and discordant,
those mumbled songs and deepened voice
have surely lost its purpose.

Say it's you one last time,
suspend all disbeliefs;
with open arms and inviting eyes,
tell me all that you've repented.
this was sitting in my draft files, might as well post it, eh?
Jul 2019 · 139
CautiousRain Jul 2019
Salted, flimsy orange rinds,
bittered instead of sweetened:
these are all I eat nowadays.

Crystalline textures coat my insides,
my blood pressure’s at an all-time high,
and my tensions are shooting through the roof.
By god, I’m so naïve,
So untouched by anything other than this,
it seems unlikely
that I would taste such saccharine things,
I’d be much more inclined to shrivel up my insides,
dehydrate all my limbs and pack them
like raw meat in a harsh winter.

I feel useless again.
this poem might as well be the poem wilted's long lost cousin
Jul 2019 · 159
CautiousRain Jul 2019
It’s a trigger, I think.

I’ve had a talk like that one
a million times
in three voices, two men, one woman,
in my many nightmares,
in my day to day living,
I’ve heard that one too many times.

A swirling tunnel,
a downcast drain, flushing
twisting impressions
of time and space, corrupted
in their voices
in my ears
and I think, surely,
that had to be a trigger.
rest in pieces my sanity
Jul 2019 · 168
CautiousRain Jul 2019
Crinkling, sizzling
grey, listful energy
waiting for the collapse,
perhaps it can hear the discordance
in your voice
when you tell me
it's over.
I'm mass posting my drafts today, have fun
Jul 2019 · 139
CautiousRain Jul 2019
If you lied
and he lied
and everyone's lying
then what am I doing here
listening to everything
when I could be damaging my ear hairs
another way?
rambles always
Jul 2019 · 156
CautiousRain Jul 2019
Loosened tie,
loosened dirt,
one's gonna **** you
one's gonna hurt,
what's it gonna be boy,
when everything's turned,
suffocated misery
or the underground resort?
felt like a little rhyming today
Jul 2019 · 161
Never Whole
CautiousRain Jul 2019
Parts of him,
Was broken into parts
Of him.

I was told the story
Of when his boy lungs
Couldn't hold another gasp,
And his father found him
Or was it ten? Minutes later
And they had to bring
A dead boy back to life.

They were told a story
Of how his mother drank
A bit too much, often
But they musn't, he musn't
Speak another word of it,
There are parts of stories left untold.

There are parts of him
So many parts
But never enough parts
To make a man whole.
Drabble from last night
Jun 2019 · 240
CautiousRain Jun 2019
tongue stuck out,
nose closed;
she always hated it,
and no matter what
we’d press and press,
forcing her to stomach
things she never wanted,
smelling that sourness,
those vinegar troubles
and tangy juice
covered in coercion;
we’d ask her time and time again
and never once did we respect her wishes.

Why must I consume?
is it not enough to exist,
is that not enough consumption?
How greedy it is
to expect me to take
more than I desire,
to force me to eat another
out of house and home.
That’s kind,
so very kind,
a sickly kind,
the sort of “kindness”
that destroys marriages,
uproots families and destroys psyches.
I’m not like that,
I don’t want to be controlled.

But we kept on shoveling
these aged, old traditions,
those nasty pickled ideas,
those greedy, grubby hands
of control over her,
and she could never let herself forgive.
prompt was to use elements of something someone told you before
I used "pickles are worse than human greed"
Jun 2019 · 332
Heart Stop Panicked
CautiousRain Jun 2019
Wasteful breaths,
a hyperventilating accordion of pressure,
my heart compressed
like extra pixels in an image, a squeezed lemon,
but unfortunately no lemonade,
only hazy vision.

I can’t move.
Moving only makes me
step closer to death,
or so I imagine,
as my heart spikes thorns inward,
every dagger ever stuck in my back
shoots down my throat
and returns to the heart it aimed for

I’m so broken.

Clammy palms, cracked nails,
dilated eyes all a mess,
and the shakes,
oh, the shakes,
an earthquake from within
brings much devastation again,
and just like every weak building does,
I collapse to my knees,
barely gripping onto the counter,
praying that if God pities me enough,
he’d let me go.
theme was describe a panic attack
Jun 2019 · 198
Filed Away Again
CautiousRain Jun 2019
I saw your name
in an old file
and I was told to dispose of it.

I couldn't help but feel so empowered
and yet oh so very vulnerable;
I'm a soft clam inside a hard shell,
but every time I think of this past you,
you've already pried me open and prodded
at my fleshy underbelly,
my most private spaces.

I was given the control
to take away another memory of you
from a place, we used to inhabit
and as much as I should've enjoyed that,
it only made me sad.
it's that time of night, I guess
welcome ladies, gents, and cool kids
sad boi hours
Jun 2019 · 179
Like Water
CautiousRain Jun 2019
I cut my heels with a shell,
her concave, smooth white surface
slicing open my body to the world.

I thought I'd see the ocean,
with all of the water in my body flooding out,
hearing every salty breath,
and smelling the frothy turquoise, foamy mess;
I thought I'd finally become one with her,
and it'd fill in the rest of my thirty percent frame.

I wanted to be like water,
but I had forgotten all the pollution,
and so through my wounds came bottles of nothing, plastic rash strings, shattered glass,
an allergic, asthmatic shutdown,
my body flopping and deflating
like a dying fish.

I didn't realize how much
comes with being like the water.
The words concave shell and asthmatic were in my head for hours so I had to put it out somehow
Jun 2019 · 230
Bitter Boy
CautiousRain Jun 2019
A bitter boy you are,
with twisted words and twisted fangs,
sour lips and ****** knuckles;
boy, you sure do love a good fight.

That's an awful lot of snickering
for a guy who's surely bluffing,
and I'm quite certain you know
as well as I, you're full of ****,
but your tangy hands and acid fingers seem so daunting
when you cast out all your hateful "truths".

I'm torn between all the love and all the hate,
it's inevitable that they'd congeal
into a sordid mixture
and so it was a bitter boy
You know I used to punish myself if I kept talking about him or writing about him, and it's been well over a year since I wrote about this guy instead of someone else, so I figured I won't punish myself if I did it this time.
I was hit with some pretty hard nostalgia the other day about it, and well, it's bittersweet when there's good but so much bad weighing down a past.
Jun 2019 · 271
CautiousRain Jun 2019
Promise me a rose,
with its subtle, sweet scents,
its soft touch,
and its beautiful presence,
oh, and please,
don't you worry,
I'm well aware
your promises always wilt away.
I wrote this and I starting crying?? Yikes
May 2019 · 216
Ticks Like You
CautiousRain May 2019
When you said I deserved better
you were so right
and I was so wrong.

I should have pinched
the head of this tick
before it ever started
to **** out my insides.
May 2019 · 108
Loose Sand
CautiousRain May 2019
I feel my energy sifting
out of my limbs and torso
like a broken hourglass
draining onto the floor,
and the grainy sections
and the grit sits in between my toes,
void of structure
as it collapses.

I don't want to patch up my cracks,
pick up the sand and glass,
or even take the time
to figure out what happened;
I've given up
and there's nothing anyone can do about it.
May 2019 · 196
CautiousRain May 2019
The troubled serpent seeks me
in the dimness of the night,
in the luminescence of stars,
in the hallowed shadows;
it asks me to relive
and I beg of him,
was eve eating the apple
not enough?

I don’t know of what sins
you think I may have
or will commit,
but must I, too,
suffer for the ones others did?
Why do I have to constantly
be in a headspace that allows
for these things to happen
over and over,
when I was not the one
to keep taking bites of forbidden fruits?
May 2019 · 105
CautiousRain May 2019
I want the blistering hot, caked asphalt
to fry my heels as I run,
I want my skin to peel back
and for my bare feet
to form calluses in its place,
I want to run and to keep running
until my knees rust
and my lungs burst.

I want to collapse in the streets alone,
just so I know I can make it
that far.
May 2019 · 204
CautiousRain May 2019
Have you ever seen a tap dancer
sit on a stage
with their legs crossed,
their metal plated shoes
facing away,
and their sound stolen?

Well, have you ever seen a girl
sit on her bed
with her legs crossed,
her feet tucked, hiding,
buried away,
and her voice silenced?
Well, have you?
Apr 2019 · 192
CautiousRain Apr 2019
Don't tell me the dragon's been vanquished,
surely he has more fight in him!
I would have guessed
he'd shoot me another riddle,
make me run in circles
wondering who would die first;
I would have thought that
I'd spend my whole life
with a sword in hand,
chasing after him.

Is it true?
Has he fallen off his plateau, his crevice
crumbled before him?
That brute lizard finally gave up?

What's left behind him,
I'd try to see and delve into his caves
searching for clues if I believed it,
but something makes me think that
just because he's dead to me,
doesn't mean he's been vanquished.

Don't tell me the dragon's been vanquished,
it's surely not that easy!
I had thought that maybe,
he wouldn't give up his bed of lies,
tossing and turning,
his chest bellowing with flames and smoke,
I expected a temper tantrum or
roaring deceit, screaming acid and blood,
and I imagined my sword
falling to his feet.
I can't believe this **** is official over
you know, I thought it'd never end, and truly
I'm scared that could still be true
Apr 2019 · 378
Only Me
CautiousRain Apr 2019
It does bother me greatly
That my plights might be,
Shunned, misunderstood, ignored,
Or that my words are inert,
They will not, can not, touch the reader.

I am inherently scared my poetry only means to me,
And yet, I find some tiny shard
In all of my worry,
That says it wouldn't matter anyway,
It's okay to only write for me.
Idk why I am so scared. I did my seniot art exhibit where I merged sculpture and poetry together. Everyone seemed so impressed by my works and have told me my works have made them feel...I just still feel uneasy.
Apr 2019 · 168
Do Not Ask
CautiousRain Apr 2019
Please do not ask me
about why I cannot give,
or in what ways I feel unable
to start over.

I've told you before,
I've told you so many countless times,
that I cannot feel anymore,
and when I do,
it rests in a porous place in my head,
not my soul,
and I refuse
to pretend I could love another
so please,
do not ask me again.

I've told you before,
I cannot bring my heart to a pulse,
much less trust
anyone, not even myself,
with that responsibility.

I know better than to pretend
I am capable of romance,
and no sorts of pressures
will allow me to breathe easy at night;
I already have so much trouble
letting things go.
If you ask me to love someone else, I feel nothing, just slightly heavier but oh so very hollow. My head feels like it's wearing a helmet and I've lost my glasses somewhere. I'm in no position to start a relationship, and I can't fathom why people think I should. That's unfair to anyone you engage with.
Apr 2019 · 164
You're Next, I'm Next
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I've been limping because of them,
but I've seen others paralyzed,
or burned alive by them,
and I'm so scared
that next time,
I'll be torn apart,
and then no one will be left
to protect the next victim.
yeah ok so they hurt me less
but what's next in store for me, the idiot who trusts too much?
Apr 2019 · 146
Regrettable Notions
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I despise how abuse is always
littering my airspace,
always tainting
the water I drink,
and always rupturing what's left of me.

I had this preconceived notion,
that once you've been abused,
you'd be wise enough to escape
another abuser,
but boy, how he showed me,
how they all showed me,
how stupid I am
to have believed that.

I want to imagine,
though how useless it would be to do so,
what it would have been like
to love someone
and to be loved by someone
genuine, for once.

I must confess,
I don't think I would know
how to accept a love
that isn't corrupted,
or perhaps,
and that pains me more
than my delusion that
I could stop them from hurting me.
sometimes I'm a fool
always a fool
Apr 2019 · 111
CautiousRain Apr 2019
Lost in transit,
I thought I saw a ghost,
with whispy hair,
and a broken nose;
it looked damaged.

I wouldn't have guessed
that I knew who she was,
no, I wouldn't have known,
had it not been for her
single laugh
that let me know,
I was her,
and she was me,
and that she had detached
many years ago,
wandering the world
without us together,
or that she was so far
into her lightweight, empty form
that speaking words
would be untranslatable
and we could not communicate
to each other anymore.
disjointed as always
Apr 2019 · 102
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I could look at you,
but never recognize your face
as it has become much too distorted
with malicious intentions
and sweaty, sleepless nights;
you are quite far gone,
and as I look at your indistinguishable face,
I'm not sure I'd ever remember
who you once were.
Apr 2019 · 530
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I never asked
for my hands to be caked in ash,
fists full of powdered, smothered memories
weigh me down like cages;
if you were to see my body,
cut apart, missing, coated
and preserved as a martyr,
like a body in Pompeii
trying to fight back the smoke.
you can try to fight your memories, but you'll die trying
maybe we should accept them instead, ya know?
I need to get better at that
Apr 2019 · 174
CautiousRain Apr 2019
echoes but does not return
the same lifeless message.
Only the stillness of the room reflects
such dreary gasps for color
and that still desire of the moth
longing to surpass its dull greys
for the wings of a fluttering butterfly
in its glory days.
this is from 3 yrs ago AND I NEVER POSTED IT HERE?
I thought I did
but nope, just on only
I'm a fool, but here
Apr 2019 · 211
I Wish
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I have worked so hard
To rid my mind of this phrase,
I wish I were happy,
And I've tried to accept my life as it is,
But hearing that phrase
Come from a friend's mouth
Solidifies how impossible
It is.

I must admit
The part of that phrase that taunts me the most
Is that I say it in the past tense,
I wish I were,
Because heaven forbid
I said a wish for my future.
this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long
here's to releasing it to the wild-
Apr 2019 · 217
Sandbox Body
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I'd like to be buried in sand
so when an archeologist, an excavationist, or a child
walks into the sandbox,
they might believe my body is a hidden treasure,
and for once,
I would be remembered.
More sand? We're surrounded by sand!
Apr 2019 · 223
CautiousRain Apr 2019
A large crash;
Everything comes at once,
Drags you by your chest
and pulls you in,
Makes you relive every moment
And with scents
Breaking past your hyposmia,
Troubled voices crowding
In your ears, in your throat,
And you remember it all
Thumping in your chest,
Making you so ill,
Always sick, always prying
At your weakened body,
But you’ll forget it again,
Hoping it goes away,
And it will always find you
In hot flashes,
To drag you by your feet,
Asking you to see again.
I hate memory loss!!!!!!!!!!
Apr 2019 · 219
CautiousRain Apr 2019
I used to remember in images,
Movies, flipbooks, flying across my eyes,
But then I saw haze,
And the foggy screens became thicker,
So the grime and dust became darkness,
And through the darkness became words,
Disconnected, discolored, disjointed
Streams of words,
And so all my memories lost
Vision, became nothing but recalled statements,
So I could tell you yes it happened,
But how or why or what was sifted through a blender,
Chunked into a garbage disposal, and lost somewhere,
yes, the memory exists as a statement,
A declaration it occurred but oh so loosely,
You can’t be sure of it.
Ya girl back at it again with the flashbacks and memory loss.
Mar 2019 · 139
False Comforts
CautiousRain Mar 2019
I wish to find some respite
In arms like yours,
though, safer,
much safer,
As it is much too likely if they were yours,
I would feel my breath leave
in sharp bellows of agony,
my lungs would decompress
into shriveled bags,
and I'd pray to forget you
all over again.
cause I know **** well if it were you now, after all I know about you,
that I'd want to leave my body and never come back
whatever comfort I used to get from you is replaced with fear now
Mar 2019 · 123
CautiousRain Mar 2019
Haven't you heard
that breaking and entering is an offense
and that maybe every attempt
you make to barge into me,
every door you bust open,
every single step forward
into my soul, my energy,
against my will, is trespassing,
and I'll be ******
if you think I won't
take care of a wiley trespasser
like you.
an oldie from march I had just sitting in the abyss
Mar 2019 · 187
Love Song
CautiousRain Mar 2019
Yes, does the mother bird sing
to her sleeping young.
Yes, does she wake them
each morning, with a full heart,
aware they may not make it,
and yet she sings with gusto.

She opens herself fully to her loved ones
because even if they pass,
even if they fly too short or plummet
from the well-kept nest,
it was always worth the morning song
and always were her children worthy of her love.
We need more familial love songs, it doesn't have to be romantic
Mar 2019 · 213
Missed Connections
CautiousRain Mar 2019
I dreamt that I saw you
barreling towards me in a sea of people,
and with your arm extended out
to touch me, pushing past me,
and you looked back
with bewildered eyes,
scared, confused,
but not knowing;
I only recognized you when I awoke,
and I'm sure
you'd never remember who I was.
Funny how you've already forgotten me
and how funny it is that I almost did too
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