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782 · Apr 2016
Sunflower Stealer
CautiousRain Apr 2016
That neighbor of yours is a sunflower stealer,
No doubt about it,
And I think they made a grave mistake,
Picking flowers like that,
Because they missed the most beautiful one of them all,
You know,
Because when they picked them, they let you go.
Part of a poem booklet I made for my friend's birthday.
777 · Apr 2016
Laughter Goes A Long Way
CautiousRain Apr 2016
Why do I laugh instead of cry?
when things turn to dust,
when I've forgotten how to speak,
or when I've cut myself open,
when I'm barely able to see,
when I think I might not last,
or when I know things look bleak,
when my tears never go uninterrupted,
when they're coated in a roaring laugh,
why do I always manage to look up,
and stop myself from feeling so sad?
775 · May 2015
Something Strange
CautiousRain May 2015
There's something strange about him,
it's sorta hard to place,
but his smile is much too wide,
as it sits upon his face.

I used to think about it,
as I laid down in my bed,
but maybe, just maybe,
it was only in my head.

Yet others seemed to notice,
the awkward, unsettled glare,
and I too became conscious,
there's a little bit more there.

I took a breath, walked away,
but digging in my back,
were his eyes and eerie smile,
plotting its attack.

I should have known he was no good,
not for me at least,
he always seemed a bit unhinged,
some say a mighty beast.

He disappeared, for years it seemed,
no eyes, no smirks, no laughs,
but when he returned to me, he said,
he hadn't done so on my behalf.

There was something strange about him,
it was sorta hard to place,
but his smile was much too wide,
as it sat upon his face.
763 · Apr 2016
Unfair
CautiousRain Apr 2016
It's so unfair to us roses,
truly,
to be admired by every passing glance,
but what of our desires?

It is only fair we get a chance,
to peruse among such lovely sights,
and instead of glorifying our petals,
we could take fascination in your image.
Me? A softie? No way! Not like...not like I keep comparing him to flowers or anything. Okay, I do. I've got it bad, you guys.
754 · Jul 2015
Pull The Trigger
CautiousRain Jul 2015
Pull the trigger, take a hit,
poison drips from fingertips,
each pill shimmers upon the floor,
a deadly grip if taken more.

Casing lined in gold or silver,
with each hit, it takes a sliver;
a busted brain, a mangled heart,
they knew the risks from the start.

A curtailed cry, cut short goodbye,
two bullets settle in throat and thigh;
eyes rolled back in a glassy stare,
lips pulled apart, a forbidden pair.

Pull the trigger, take a hit,
blood runs red from fingertips,
men resting silent upon the floor,
the chamber clicks to silence more.
#MorningInspiration
741 · May 2016
Preguntame
CautiousRain May 2016
Preguntame por qué la luz no la hará brilla,
o de qué manera
los arboles encinar transformaron
a ceniza y polvo,
consumen en el fuego,
y por qué nadie oyendo los gritos del bosque
llegaron para pagar sus respetos.

Estas soldados de madera necesitaron lluvia,
como lágrimas a la faz de una viuda afligida,
para calmar las llamas,
entonces, tomaron gotas de agua para pacificar sus dolores,
y en la noche, cuando todos era silencio
ellos dormían en el viento sin ansia,
como es el estado natural para madre tierra.

English version:
Ask me

Ask me why the light won't shine,
or how
the oak trees transformed
into ashes and dust,
consumed in the fire,
and why no one, hearing the cries of the forest,
came to pay their respects.

These wooden soldiers needed rain,
like tears in the face of a grieving widow,
to calm the flames,
so, they took drops of water to pacify their pains,
and at night, when all was silent
they slept without anxiety in the wind,
as is the natural state for Mother Earth.
Because it's been a while since I tried using spanish :P
730 · Jan 2016
Stagnant You
CautiousRain Jan 2016
I drowned all my memories of you,
and let them drift to the bottom;
sea foam bubbled as you sank, and the thick green froth gurbbled when you plunged-
into the abyss, my cavern of exile.

I had to **** you so I could live;
but the fish, too, became intoxicated,
and so they were gone; crushed coral littered your descent into the black ink, to the places my mind won't reach.

My feet placed firmly, barefoot, caloused, in the chilled sands of time,
watched the water go still, and the sounds of life, birds, and the wind ceased, all the while the salty smell of defeat rest across the monotone blue.

I had to **** you.
Welcome 2016, the year of self healing and strength.
723 · Aug 2017
Slipping
CautiousRain Aug 2017
Slipping, slipping, slipping,
falling through the cracks,
I nearly forgot that your
kisses felt like that
against me
with your hand brushing past
my neck,
I'm falling back,
slipping,

my fingers lace with your own
and I forgot what it felt like
to be dying;
falling,
falling
down to the earth,
keep me grounded
with the sound of your heart
beats
so serene as I fall
falling back,
back

into love with you.
I love him and sometimes he's just so dumb, but I am glad to have him back <3
710 · Oct 2019
Borrow
CautiousRain Oct 2019
Tic-tac-toe
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?
699 · Jun 2016
Bruises and Bandages
CautiousRain Jun 2016
Head pulsing; eight o'clock,
hair pulling has to stop,
burning purple, dull eyes,
barely breathing, sleep deprived,
drowning bodies cannot rest,
bandaged up,
what a mess;
pressure building and collapsing,
draining, lazy, and containing-
*nothing.
I would rather not.
665 · Apr 2019
Pompeii
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
665 · Nov 2021
Self-Explain
CautiousRain Nov 2021
It's so easy when I self-explain;
it means that everything is okay,
and I can convince myself of something,
even when it's not true.

It's what I did for you.
It is like that sometimes...
657 · Nov 2015
Dear Five
CautiousRain Nov 2015
Dear number five, with my hand I count,
Twice in fact, without a doubt.
To my birthday, February herewith,
It is indeed upon the fifth.

Dear number five, you do so mean,
Foot long sandwiches for one to dream.
3.14159, in pi you do arrive,
Among Fibonacci you do so strive.

Dear number five, you have begun,
Histories with a long run:
Karl Marx was born; a Mexican independence;
US/SR tested nukes; all which men were in attendance.

Dear number five, with Lincoln it so bares,
His proud, pensive face, a dollar shares.
Cinco, viis, wu, cinq, go, fem,
In different languages does your usage stem.

Dear number five, I must say adieu,
You’re much more than numbers, such as two,
And as I leave you my simple twenty line poem,
Remember the writer who sat here and wrote ‘em.
Because college scholarship contests make you do strange things.
656 · May 2015
Anxious
CautiousRain May 2015
Thumbs fumble and caress,
exacerbated in mid-movement,
stress refusing to slip away.

Toes fidgeting, mouth stuttering,
eyes glossed beneath their cage;
warm lips sewn shut by breath alone.

Throat burning, stomach churning,
every sound becomes a bell,
every word garbbled; unnerved.
638 · May 2016
Sunshine
CautiousRain May 2016
You call me sunshine
and there are days I'd believe it,
but others I don't.

When my mind is so cloudy
I can't think at all
or when I process far too much
and it clashes in thunderous claps,
or when my tears block my view,
pouring, dribbling into its final trickle,
you say it.
How could you call me sunshine then?

You mean to say that behind all that,
nothing changes?
Surely an object cannot be an object if its properties change.

Yet you have the audacity to say otherwise,
that I can still be sunshine even when the night has fallen,
and the stars take my place,
because who else would illuminate the moon had it not been true?

So maybe I'll believe you.
631 · Feb 2017
Unbreakable Flower
CautiousRain Feb 2017
I'm the kind of flower
that grows out of concrete,
but with one look,
I appear just like a ****.

I've got a reinforced stem
and a will to burst through the cracks;
I don't wilt without water,
and I refuse to cut back.

I grow in adversity,
under the shade, in the dust,
in the hard rock pressing against
my roots, when it's rough;

but I'm not some simple dandelion
waiting for grubby hands to rip from the dirt,
I'm a flower, not a ****,
I cannot be deterred.
Feeling kind of...strong, but not necessarily confident wise, but perhaps a bit of irritation mixed in.
613 · Apr 2017
Hidden
CautiousRain Apr 2017
Remember this,
but I can't be sure,
if I spoke to him or not,
if I left my door unlocked,
if I lost my books upstairs,
if I started what I needed,
if I even brushed my hair
because my mind refuses stimulus
and all I know is that it clears,
everything from my memories
leaving me in a haze, protecting me from something,
experiences I can't remember why I fear,
making it harder to rationalize my emotions,
as if I needed more paranoia
if I could remember
what he said to me,
when I closed myself off,
when I left my guard down,
when I began noticing these trends,
when I stopped caring if I was okay,
and all I know is nothing
from what stings,
leaving me all alone in a horrible fright
of thoughts I can't resurface.
rip me, gotta love when you actually cannot remember events and then go into this spiral of doubting any of your emotions having validity because you ACTUALLY CAN'T REMEMBER ANYTHING- I woke up from a nap the other day and couldn't remember anything I did that day at all, nothing, not even if I had gone to class or ate
610 · Dec 2015
Heights
CautiousRain Dec 2015
"Afraid of heights? Don't be silly,"
the hard metal only grazes the sky,
it's nothing, don't you worry.

I'd have never guessed you'd take me up there, where,
I could reach the stars, with wind flushed cheeks, hair flying,
and your crooked teeth smiling back.

The moon was such a bright white,
and your laughter set in motion a part of me I had never felt,
and this exhiliration broke the heavens,
us both staring in wonder and excitement.

Don't be afraid of heights he said to the small(er) middle school me,
and had I known he would look so...
magical mixed in with the night,
I would have never tried to say no.
I don't think I had a crush on him before or after the fair, but that moment was certaintly the most romantic. Childish, yes, but beautiful.
585 · Sep 2015
Blue Eyes
CautiousRain Sep 2015
They always hit me,
like frothy waves in the ocean,
growing in strength; a hot, salty blue,
enveloping me in its wake.

Like fine crystal, the clearest, most pure,
a divine glamour, cutting deep to the soul,
each speck: grey, green, brown, blue,
as if crafted by God's own hand.

It mesmerizes, shouts to me, calls;
they say nature's color is green,
but blue rings from the mountain tops, from waters below,
and it settles in their gaze.
Blue eyes always seem to trap me. The curse of my father, the quest for blue eyed wonder.
584 · Jan 2016
Jealousy
CautiousRain Jan 2016
You've finally caught me.

We've raced for years, but never touched.

Your sister, envy, had grazed my cheeks every now and again, but you're far more devious.

You don't burn like her,
you sour; your energy collides,
collapses, into a bitter liquid.

As soon as we met, I wanted to escape,
but your mischevious glint held me,
and every thought against my will sprouted forth.

You infected me.

You took my rational mind and crushed it,
you twisted my trust, tainted my love,
and now I have to face you.

You're not like your sister,
and I'll be ****** to let you stay,
craddling me like a small child,
listening to your fallacious tales.

I'm better than that,
so the next time you see me,
tell you and your sister goodbye.
I forgot what jealousy felt like, and it hit me. Haven't had a prominent feeling like this in years. I'm determined to keep it at bay, it's too vile to let loose.
569 · Sep 2018
Spite
CautiousRain Sep 2018
I sip coffee,
black, no sugar, no cream,
and hope so badly that you see me
with my arms stiff,
my eyes burning violet,
my throat humming,
buzzing like a swarm of wasps
clearing the area;

I despise coffee
but not as much as I despise
the shame you walk with
or the silent stares
angled in another direction.
Look at me
with coffee that hurts
and twists my stomach;
it exists much like you,
a crutch to feel alive
but it only causes nausea.
ya girl salty as usual
CautiousRain Jun 2015
I think I'm like the headlines,
Flashy, just for show,
but when it comes to substance,
It's left untouched, alone.

What is the purpose of my story,
If it isn't read?
Each page left forgotten,
my words fleeting; dead.
556 · Aug 2015
Discussion
CautiousRain Aug 2015
Shaky hands, cold lips,
Jumbled words, politics,
Burning cheeks, wikileaks,
Silent stares, distant week.

Twisted stomach, achy sighs,
Neither are more the wise,
Silent thoughts, weak spots,
Each word twisted in a knot.
I am too nervous nowadays to talk about anything. Somedays I feel I fall victim to believing two things at once, and not being able to choose the one I trust more.
548 · Nov 2015
Why is it?
CautiousRain Nov 2015
Why is it* that I hold my breath,
and my heart stops beating?

My skin runs cold, and I wonder,
how much patience do I have left?

Why is it that when I think I've made it,
that I can finally exhale,
I find myself frozen in time?
Food for thought. I'm just rambling at this point.
541 · Jun 2016
Dear Diary
CautiousRain Jun 2016
Funny how when I write diary entries,
they're nothing but cryptic,
just in case someone else manages to read it,
because my fear consumes me,
and Roosevelt was right,
as the only thing to fear
is what keeps me up at night.

People underestimate words on a page,
but it dictates every single way
we move and interact
each day and how the world
conducts business
without us,
without me,
and I sit here wondering what's wrong,
why can't I see
some words have used me
their appeal, too strong,
and I couldn't tell them
how wrong it'd be to follow
every move they make
leaving me stranded
abandoned
by my own mistakes.

It's hard to claw at the truth
when it hides, evades,
and no matter what you want
it just won't stay,
maybe it's supposed to be
impossible to find
cause I haven't taken the time
to stop reflecting
on such derelict
themes and open my eyes
to what's new to seize,
it means something
when you've closed yourself off
and every sound
every option
seems like another **** wall
and maybe
it's hard to know when
you're always told stop
instead of go.
537 · Sep 2021
Guilt for Loving the Guilty
CautiousRain Sep 2021
Why am I made to feel guilty for having loved him?
It wasn't my fault that he wasn't who he said he was,
and it didn't make my love any less genuine.

Why do I have to brunt all of this shame
for my innocent first real attempt at a safe love?
How was that fair to me?
All I wanted was to love and be loved.

But no, I had to pull myself together,
and immediately turn to shunning,
mocking, and avoiding him,
not even a month after he left me;
I had to repress how I had felt before to show face.

No one else had loved him as I did,
I was the odd one out,
and so I had to "hate" him too.
I still loved him; it wasn't fair.

He ruined everything
and I couldn't say anything about it,
stuck in the battle of knowing
I had to stand for justice and condemnation
of a man who had last held me in his arms
months before.

His bad behavior, in turn,
stole the grieving process from me.
I had to skip all the steps and lock it away
to protect others, to be strong,
and it wasn't fair.

I'm tired of feeling miserable
for having these good memories of him,
and it isn't my fault that he did bad things;
I just wish this never happened at all.
Oh, so all the flashbacks are really just about this one repressed feeling? Great. At least I know the problem now.
527 · Jun 2016
What If?
CautiousRain Jun 2016
Where would I be,
had I decided my fate earlier?
Changing timelines,
feeling sadder,
or maybe not at all;
would my life be nothing
like it is now,
gunking up my flow,
like a wounded baby's crawl?

Would I even be myself?
(Or was I ever really?)
Could I remember how to feel?
(Other than just dreary?)
Should I even bother caring?
(When it calls to me so clearly?)

Well,
they say fate determines all,
others claim free will,
but have they considered
compromising skills?
Because I know I caused my path,
and I made it pre-determined,
as without my desires,
my future isn't certain.
So to question what my past
may have had to offer
is to question my own
mind, self, and author.
Your own actions determine your fate. Yes, technically if you were to be able to perceive the future it would be "pre-determined" BY FUTURE YOU. Also I need to stop asking myself what ifs, because I decided what happened. I shouldn't dabble in so much questioning my past. I might miss out on my present.
524 · Jul 2017
Lucid Lady
CautiousRain Jul 2017
Lucid lady
come to me
tell me what I must do
to rescue my dreams
before they all
become nightmares.
Sigh
523 · Nov 2015
Laundrywocky
CautiousRain Nov 2015
'Twas Saturday, and the clothes abound,
were cruffled and lay in shabby state,
pants and shirts, to feet were wound,
   or carrumped in arms, a heavy weight.

“Beware the laundry, my dear child,
The smelly socks, the ***** sheets,
Beware the washer, with its center wild,
and shun the powdered soap, its scent deceits!”

She took the pile, and flung from hands,
the soap and smell she still dread,
so fast was she, with soapy brands,
and sprinkled it, through air it fled.

And, as in a relieved thought she stood,
The laundry soaked in waters warm,
in gurbling stream, as water should,
And sunk beneath the bubbly storm.

Swish, swash, swish swash! It clanged and bashed,
the cloth slwooshed back and forth,
the lid meeting its close was mashed,
She frolumped joyfully back in form.

“And have you vanquished the ***** clothes?
Come to my arms, oh clean one!
Wonderous day! No more dismay, bless the smell of rose!
For no longer sat a stinky ton.

'Twas Saturday, and the clothes abound,
were cruffled and lay in shabby state,
pants and shirts, to feet were wound,
   or carrumped in arms, a heavy weight.
A parody nonetheless. Done for my high school senior english class. :^) It had to be based off of a chore.
521 · Sep 2015
Wavering
CautiousRain Sep 2015
In the mirror, I see art.

My dark hair curls, accentuates,
crafting my royal cheeks, smooth,
against my olive skin.

My figure, curved, full,
like the sands of time; slowly,
crafting my shape in splendor.

My eyes, a rich coffee brown,
earthquakes thrive; shatter,
resonate in my gaze.

Yet...the painting becomes forgotten,
the frame tilts with the pull of Earth,
worn hands fail to paint.

When I walk, they perceive me.
Am I as beautifully crafted as a Renoir? Or as scattered as a *******?

Each stare a different audience, another sketch, a frame lost in the viewer's eye.

But my thoughts are forever,
burdened only by another's dream,
ideas stirred, juxtaposed with my own;
an artist's piece at odds.

The colors smear, lines smudge, but yet my eyes always see the beauty. Do you?
When my confidence is only self confidence, and not confidence in other people's perceptions of me.
504 · Apr 2016
His Dreams In Color
CautiousRain Apr 2016
The first vision you ever had for me was blue,
albeit, a bit hazily speckled across my canvas,
sparsley separated from the rest of the daunting white,
but it wasn't enough.

You pondered it for a few minutes but thought better of yourself,
so you cleaned up the blue and added red instead.

Oh red, what a wonderous color,
but over the years you've diluted it to pink,
and that's okay, it suited me best anyway.

You couldn't be sure of your inital sketches,
lined in yellow across my sides,
and so you would work, rework,
and work again; and that was fine.

I've always found it funny,
you know,
how your pallette can be so so very small,
and yet create so many different works,
I wonder how you know which of us go together;
to line your halls with canvases, different and alike,
how are we to make such a satisfactory gallery?

Once, not too long ago,
I met a man, and I think you wrote him in green,
lathered the sides with a smooth ink,
and clumped, in oil, a bright orange near the bottom,
and I think he hopes no one notices the edge,
but I've always found it to be the most beautiful.

It's rather peculiar, really,
to see one color morph into another,
for a shape to become something much larger,
and to see the techniques mimicked in a chain,
a group of us, only linked by the initial movements,
brushed over so many times we might just forget.

Each of us,
a work of art,
separated only by years,
colors,
and life's rotations.
502 · Oct 2015
Deja Vu
CautiousRain Oct 2015
It hits me like a hot spark,
a burning singe from the orange flame;
that's life, I gasp, and yet nothing changed.

Like a fever chill, sweat beading at the brow,
I remember how it once was,
only to repeat through whispers of the wind.

Here we go again, another thought,
skipping across the lake like a smooth rock,
but just so, it sinks to the bottom,
with a final sound: *Plop!
Deja vu hit me like a kite.
I swear this year is just another dream.
502 · Jun 2016
Distilled
CautiousRain Jun 2016
A disillusioned nightmare knocking at my door,
creeping slowly,
gaining on me,
skidding through the floor;
fragility is fractured,
hallucinations are a hoax,
and it's certain that clouds,
not blood clots, were meant to float,
so when the mirror curves,
like a dagger for the conscience,
every nerve frays like an abandoned fabric,
torn, shredded, limp and unseenly,
even night terrors are afraid of scathing reality.
Perspectives and drabble I guess
500 · Sep 2021
Bad Love
CautiousRain Sep 2021
People keep trying to tell me that it wasn't real love,
and I know how wrong they are when they say it;
people don't want to face the idea that a bad person is capable of love,
but they are,
and a lot of bad people have loved me.
A re-occuring theme, that bad people can still love. As I always say, if bad people cannot love, then most of my life I had never been loved. That just simply isn't true.
474 · Nov 2021
Favorite
CautiousRain Nov 2021
Was I ever really his favorite?
From the words, he spilled,
I would have been inclined to believe it,
but his actions say otherwise.

Was I ever anyone's favorite?
I've been chronically revered but overlooked at the same time.
They spoke so highly of me, for someone so apt to abandon at a moment's notice.

I couldn't imagine him willing to take the time to get to know me,
and yet I expended my energy to know him;
it's funny,
to think I vowed my love to someone so distant.

I have never been the favorite,
I have always been the connecting piece from one person to another,
leading them to each other like a sheep dog with its flock;
I have always been alone,
One way or another.
Didn't realize this was a deep-rooted pain I had until recently that really centers on a childhood wound. Here we are trying to get it out of my head and onto paper.
457 · Apr 2019
Only Me
CautiousRain Apr 2019
It does bother me greatly
That my plights might be,
Well,
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.
452 · Apr 2016
Bubbling Bottle
CautiousRain Apr 2016
A warm tingling,
crawling up your spine,
yelling in your ears, your heart,
your mind,
and it keeps calling;
every part of your body,
a tense, hot, sizzling touch,
of your skin, yearning,
burning, soft lips leaning so close,
fingers curling, twitching,
sighing, and incessant noise ringing,
screaming, as you gaze into their eyes;
a coarse heat clumping in your throat,
keeping you entranced, captured,
wanting them now; forever.
To the prompt: Lust
451 · Dec 2018
Sleeping
CautiousRain Dec 2018
Oh, so you could finally sleep soundly at night,
knowing my gullible body
warmed your cold, corrupted heart?

Yes, I see now,
you are a real criminal,
sleeping contently with me,
knowing as long as I do,
no one will come for you.

You slept quietly, happily, with comfort,
the comfort of a facade
you made me a vital pawn in;
I did not intend to console
your wicked ways with my love.

Try to sleep peacefully now, boy,
and please take those sweet memories with you,
they weren't real anyway.
Yeah, you know what you did.
450 · Apr 2016
After Hours
CautiousRain Apr 2016
The thick, jet-black sky was teeming with stars,
each one twinkling to the beat of our hearts,
ba thump,
ba thump,
ba thump,

and danced when our hands trailed too close,
my frigid fingertips trailing across his hot palms,
trying timidly, feverishly, to reach equilibrium.

His tenacious coffee-brown eyes animated,
stirring at the very hint of my voice,
(a mere mouse squeak) as I looked away,
pawing at my arm, fidgeting my words
into mush in front of him,
letting them drop to the seat of the bench like
unfortunate jelly spilled at a picnic,
sticky and clumped, indecipherable,
languorously trailing from my lips
and dripping downward
to the cool-grey concrete slabs
bolstering us up among the night.

It was tedious.
He knew it would be
as he beamed back,
still watching my words flow
like molasses, so dense and viscous
they never came.

He kissed me.

Had I expected it,
I might've stopped him,
tried to make it more artificial,
more methodical, contracted,
mechanical, but I didn't.
I couldn't.

The feeling pressed through me
like a current,
an electric shock pulsing,
refusing to stop until it hit my core,
reverberating through my chest,
forcing my eyes open.

Taking advantage of this moment
he teased, knowing I couldn't speak,
not then,
not now,
not after this;
when I looked back at him,
his gaze was much calmer,
more delicate,
and his laughter floated off
like feathers.

I kissed him.
446 · Oct 2021
Porcelain
CautiousRain Oct 2021
Tiny porcelain masks;
why not see what happens when you watch them fall?

Look at how
fragile and delicate they are,
each one hand-crafted to hide away
life's torments.

Be honest with yourself,
and retire them
before they crack against your own will.
Had a long talk with a friend...
445 · Sep 2019
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
445 · Dec 2019
SM
CautiousRain Dec 2019
SM
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
444 · Jul 2017
Overdose
CautiousRain Jul 2017
Liquid luck ain’t so lucky
when you drink it all at once
because no one reads the
warning label: Small doses only;
there are always repercussions
for an overdose...
...
439 · Feb 2019
Wilt
CautiousRain Feb 2019
A wilted lettuce leaf, I am.
Look how weak every crease happens to be,
and how sad it is to see me,
limp and soggy,
Skin turned dark,
An unforgettable, unpleasant sight;
Such an unforgiving body, I have.
it just be like that sometimes
431 · Apr 2017
Illuminate Me
CautiousRain Apr 2017
When I told you I loved you with all my heart,
perhaps you never understood.

My heart is like a magnificent skyscraper and every story was lit like a fancy casino,
glamorously shimmering from its hundreds of windows.
I made sure it was always lit from your view.
Though, I have a confession to make:
It was very rarely that my light was strong enough to hold by itself.
In fact, the lights would shut down more often than I’d have liked to admit to you, or anyone else.
No, the lights were nearly broken and not even a backup generator could hold such a behemoth of a building, and so I would panic.
I panicked and did my best to light it for you because you deserved the prettiest view.
I brought candles.
Thousands upon thousands would illuminate the rooms just bright enough for you to look up at the windows and smile because they were lit and you imagined a place as beautiful as it once was.

Though it wasn’t any longer.

The candles on the first floors would melt and burn out while I’d sprint up the stairs to carry more to the middle floors. My flames were burning faster than I could run, my lungs wanted to give out trying, bursting and frazzling like my lighter (which, it too, needed replacing). I was so carried away, caught in the motions of burning and burnouts that I would trip up the steps and injure myself. I cried as I spilled hot wax down my hands, my arms, and I would peek through my windows with tears, noticing the days you no longer looked up at them. I tried even harder to light the place, I brought bigger candles, maybe they’d hold longer, maybe I could have had more time. You looked up now and again and I felt like maybe you’d finally understood. Then you left and, well, I realized you never knew how hard it is to keep the lights on.

I let them burn out for good.

I keep hesitating, hovering my match over a few candles, wondering if it’s worth pretending my love is still easy. I’ve tossed my old light bulbs out the windows just to see them shatter. I thought maybe if you’d walk by and see the broken glass, you’d want to know for yourself and see what I put myself through.

Yet, all you did was ignore the sounds of the glass smashing against the concrete, the sounds of my shoes rubbing the shards into the pavement, and me.

I still light a few candles here and there, but after a few hours, I have the urge to put it out again so I drown them in buckets of water.

My heart is a mess, and I wish now that instead of just looking up at the illumination, you would have wanted to be involved, and that you would have taken the time to gander inside the building for a change. Why did you never do that for me?
Tbh this is more some sort of prose than it is a poem but I don't care. I had the concept of this in my head for a while because I thought god, how could I ever explain this feeling to that man? I never did, but I wrote it out anyway because I am enamored with the way I imagined it.
425 · Nov 2021
Energy
CautiousRain Nov 2021
If I have the energy to heal,
then do I have the energy to expend?
To let myself try to love again?

Is it wise to take the little bit I have
And turn it to another and not myself?
Shouldn't I have learned by now?

Why am I not more reserved?
This energy isn't truly in abundance,
and would it not be selfish to think the small amount I have to give is enough for someone else?
It is barely enough for me.

This heart is so foolish,
and I have yet to learn how to tame her rash desires;
I wish she knew to quiet down.
I wrote this, but now I've got to thinking- what if my energy was infinite instead? What would I be able to impart and create?
420 · Aug 2021
Ghosts Loving Ghosts
CautiousRain Aug 2021
Foreign bodies with foreign bodies,
unknown hands with unknown hands,
we said we are in love together,
but we don't know where we stand;
such is the torture
of ghosts loving ghosts,
you never dared to tell me who you were,
nor I shared with you who I am.

Look at us now,
just two shadows in love,
no wonder when the two converged,
they slipped right through each other.
When we are both hollow, what is there to make of us?
420 · Apr 2017
Wasted Time
CautiousRain Apr 2017
I wasted my time,
Trying to figure you out
But to my dismay
You found nothing to say.

I don’t know why
I thought that maybe I’d try
To talk to you soon
But that plan was doomed.

So I waited it out
Took small steps in the crowd
Hoped you would look back
Yet it wasn’t like that.

Oh why did I think
That maybe it’d work
If I just put in
More than it’s worth?

Don’t think twice
I made mistakes that aren’t nice
And I know I’ll keep trying
Though your presence is like ice.
Starting singing in the shower and this happened. Pretty mad at someone rn anyway....
419 · Nov 2018
Refund Me
CautiousRain Nov 2018
I’m not sure how to return to you
All the crippling anxiety you brought
Along with the sorrows deserted to all our doorsteps,
But I’d like to remind you
That the product you supplied
Was not as advertised
And I’d be much obliged to ask for a refund,
If it weren’t too late
To pull out my receipts
And read all your hypocrisies.

Don’t misinterpret me,
But I must admit this is not what I wanted
And I paid to you two years or more
Of my miserable life,
Yet this is all the effort you could muster
To me
And every other person who bought into
What you were selling;
I never took you for a snake oil salesman,
But that’s the price I paid for my naivety,
Isn’t it?

I’m sure you’d like to remind me
That a customer should always do their research,
And I’m oh so sorry
I didn’t feel the need to.
Would you like me to sue you
So that the next time someone buys in
To your sly little Ponzi scheme,
You come with a warning label?
oof
418 · Jul 2017
Stop Light
CautiousRain Jul 2017
I could wear red,
But you’d still touch me
Running past the signs
Like a self-entitled racecar;
Even yellow has you going
Revving up against me
Throwing caution in a bin,
When will you learn to read me?
I don’t need your tires
Skidding on my potholes,
Making a mess of marks on my body,
What could send a message?
Maybe orange?
Please do not speak to me
Construction up ahead,
Too busy fixing all the holes people left behind.
Or would you just run over the cones too?
Tired of people ignoring what I say and feel.
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