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Cait Harbs Jul 2019
With scarlet-stained hands
and tear-streaked eyes,
I begged the Day to stitch
my soul to the sunrise

so I would cease to know
this cruel darkness within
for there are no stars here -
only howling without end.

The Day responded gently,
"You don't need me for light.
You are a child of the Moon -
this darkness is your birthright."
through the darkness we discover our light
Cait Harbs Jun 2019
Sometimes,
fingertips become haunted,
and bodies are filled with ghosts,
when people are forced to lose the loves
that they loved the very most.

Sometimes,
memories become poisonous,
and beautiful pictures can cause pain,
and even the letters of the alphabet hurt
when they arrange to spell a certain name.

But sometimes,
the sunshine walks up to you,
and the moon brings you coffee,
and the shadows no longer scare you
because the stars take you dancing.

Sometimes,
when you're sure you'll never smile
the way you did before your heart was crushed,
without expecting it, the universe brings you
someone who's never made you laugh so much.

Sometimes,
love walks right up to you,
when you're sure that it was dead,
and plants flowers in your smile
and a never-dying garden in your head.

And while you never know
which sometimes you're in right now,
one thing is for certain:
you'll live through them all, without a doubt -

and that makes it all worth it, somehow.
Cait Harbs Jun 2019
I never knew a gentle love,
Never one that didn't leave scars.
Only ones that demanded blood,
Cutting away pieces of my heart.

I thought that was what love was -
Pain and thrashing and aches,
And that only if I was shattered
Would any beauty grow in its breaks.

And then, like the sunshine,
Breaking through the darkest skies,
You came into my life to show me
That love isn't all painful cries.

That sometimes it's kindness,
Soft and sweet and innocently playful,
Sometimes it's being given;
Holding onto happiness with both hands full.

Love doesn't have to be cruel;
It doesn't have to be shown in daggers;
Sometimes love is the earth,
And in it, I can grow beautiful flowers.

In it, I can grow, and blossom,
Give back all the nourishment I'm shown;
And of all the loves I've felt,
Yours is the best I've ever known.
And I hope I am as good to you as you are to me
Cait Harbs Jan 2019
We set the room on fire,
Slow dancing in its flames.
The sparks that set it ablaze -
Softly whispering each other's names.

I wonder, now, what was more scandalous,
To those looking on wordlessly -
The way I was looking at her,
Or the way she was looking at me.
Cait Harbs Jan 2019
Cruel lover,
did you know
that when you raked your nails
across my skin,
they were searing my soul -
every touch
became a burning trail
that lead to my heart,
beating to the rhythm
of your pulsating starlight?

Cruel lover,
did you know
that when you spoke my name
you cast a curse,
so that now when it is spoken,
it leaves a taste
of blood and ash,
of love and loss,
and sounds like the howling moonlight?

Cruel lover,
did you know
that when you reached for me
as the darkness was calling for you,
that your cries bound me
to the forest
filled with the shadows of your love,
never letting me leave
so you'd be able to always find me?

Cruel lover,
tell me this -
did you know
your love
would destroy?
And if you did,
why did you let me burn?
And burn for you, oh, I did.
Cait Harbs Jan 2019
Darling -

It has been said
that our final death
happens
the last time
our name is spoken.

I do not know
who will be the one
to **** you
in a breath
of infinite finality

but it will not be me,
it will not be me,
it will not be me
who delivers that final blow.

Even in death,
even in darkness,
staring down the void,
yours will be
the only name
my tongue will still know.
If you are to die, I will not be alive to see it.
Cait Harbs Jan 2019
Some mothers give their daughters:
Rose petal hands
And bouquets for smiles;
Laughter like Aphrodite
And the lips of a pianist;
A mind like sunshine;
The poise and elegance of a princess,
And the graceful gaze of a queen,

And surely,
These are valuable, lovely things.

But my mother gave me
Only that which she had
Fought and earned for herself:

Swords for fingers;
Guns for lips,
and arrows for eyes;
Armor for skin
And a mind sharp as knives;
How to create
A bouquet out of flames;
How to invite my demons
For afternoon tea;
And in the darkness,
She taught me how to sing.

And surely,
These are also valuable, lovely things.
My hero, my mom, a true queen in her own right.
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