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Caitlin Wynkoop Dec 2010
once upon a time
there was a princess
who had always searched for her prince
searched high
and searched low
but never found anything
that didn't bore her.

she's play with some neighbors,
tug on their minds with her words
and try to entertain herself
but nothing ever impressed her -
she didn't expect it to.
the princess got more and more confused
wondering if her standards were too high

or her pool simply too shallow.
she came to the conclusion
that she would have to settle
that she would have to entertain herself
and give in to life's ordinary train
and follow it around the tracks
around around around.

one day she met a prince from a far away kingdom
someone she approached as a friend,
someone she found lots in common with.
"this should be fun," thought the princess,
"until I get bored again."
they talked, they laughed, they enjoyed each other
and the princess waited to be bored.

they'd created inside jokes,
and she discovered he'd been raised similar to her,
with the same comfort foods,
same music, same entertainment, same tastes,
and she never stopped laughing and smiling.
he made her simply happy, and she never thought,
never considered it might last.

the princess waited for the prince
to reveal something she didn't like,
to stop talking, to not share an interest,
to treat her wrong, to do something wrong,
but every time something went wrong,
she discovered it was her fault.
the only thing holding them back was her.

so she talked to the prince.
she talked to her parents, and they told her
that this was an impossible thing,
that he lived too far away,
that this would never last, it would never work,
for true love does not exist.
and she was devastated.

if there was not one person for her
in the world, one person worth waiting for,
what had she been doing her entire life?
no one had struck her fancy before he,
no one had caught her eye for more than a moment,
and everyone else had let her down,
even her own flesh and blood.

she locked herself away, confused and hurt,
tearing her hair out, writing on the walls
when she ran out of paper, scratching with her nails
when she ran out of pencils, and the only thing
that would save her from herself was her prince's image,
the thought of his laugh, his voice,
his eyes that enchanted her.

she had found what she had never expected to find,
could care less where he was from,
where he was going, where he was living.
she'd been raised a skeptic, with no hope
for the true love, the soulmates,
the prince of her dreams that she heard of
in all the fairy tales - for they were just stories.

now that she was presented with this truth,
and the king and queen were still cynical,
she could do nothing but choke back her tears
and pray to a god she didn't believe in.
the image of the prince was all that would save her
from giving into her own darkness,
but even he couldn't cling that tightly.

Even he couldn't cling that tightly.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
Caitlin Wynkoop Nov 2010
I’m on my knees before you,
Looking at your jeering face.
You don’t care.
I spent two years of my life,
With this moment in mind,
This moment where I finally hold you,
This moment where I finally,
Fully,
Fall
Into your arms.
But this isn’t that moment I dreamed of.
This is a horrible reflection of it,
Where your hand isn’t caressing mine,
Your lips aren’t against mine,
Your arms aren’t around me –
Your hand is holding hers.
Your lips are against hers,
Your arms around her like you never want to let go.
I’ve slumped down to the bottom of my heart,
Searching for any sign that this was coming,
Any sign that this wasn’t real.
You were an amazing actress, my love.
You fooled the liar, the cheat, the fraud.
The one time when I was fully honest,
The one person I fully let in,
And you played with it – you used it for your amusement.
Every moment that you’re standing there,
Holding her to you,
Kissing her temple,
Your thumb rubbing against her palm,
Showing her all your love,
I die repeatedly.
I thought I could trust you…

Waking up in a cold sweat,
I cry out,
Feel for the wounds
Just to realize
They’re all on the inside.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
Caitlin Wynkoop Nov 2010
I want to go into a photo booth with you,
like a legit photo booth,
and split up the pictures so you get half and I get half,
so we can both have pictures of ourselves that are adorable,
and we can be kissing
and we can be hugging
and we can be ridiculously cute
and affectionate
and it won't matter.
I want to have a picture of us together
that I can always pull out
and just gush over how beautiful you are,
how we complement each other
and how lucky I am to have found you.
I want to spend the entire day finding new things out about you,
figuring out your weaknesses and your strengths,
your favorite foods, drinks, games, jokes,
and then use all of them to let you get to know me,
my weaknesses and strengths,
my favorite foods, drinks games, jokes,
and just sit across from you and look at you,
take in every bit of you and just smile,
because I know you're mine.

You're my greatest weakness,
and yet best strength, because
I love you.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
Caitlin Wynkoop Oct 2010
What do you see
When you look in the mirror?
Do you see someone
You’re proud to know
Proud to have made
Proud to be?
Do you see someone
You’d like to change
Like to alter
Like to ****?
I see someone
In the middle of a transition
From good
To great,
And I see someone
Who loves who they are
And adores who they’ll be.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
Caitlin Wynkoop Oct 2010
As you grow up,
you begin to recognise
the thin spider’s web
that’s holding us all,
delicately dangling above hell,
and some willingly cut
their ties with all of humanity
and enter the depths of
this lonely hell
before their time.
Others who recognise the web
that connects us all
can contact the spider,
finding their way to make
more connections
with love, friendship, and care.
While few
sacrifice their own strand
to strengthen
another’s.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
Caitlin Wynkoop Oct 2010
In the lobby of this building,
Every morning, around ten minutes to the 8 o’clock hour,
20 students sit,
As spread out between the chairs,
Benches, and mock-couches as possible.
No one sits next to each other,
No one looks at each other –
Everyone is an outcast.
When the teacher finally emerges
From the mock-greenness that is outside,
As a whole, they rise up to their feet,
And enter the classroom.
Where no one is an outcast
Except the girl with the yellow
And blue hair.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
Caitlin Wynkoop Oct 2010
It's very difficult to describe
in words that which one would usually
express via a kiss to the cheek,
a nuzzle to the ear,
a loving whisper as fingers
play with waist.

The dance that we would perform
if you were here
would more than relieve
the emotions that swirl through
my distressed soul.

It's odd, living in a hot,
red hell of desire is usually
pleasant, lovely, life-affirming.
Now, being unable to sate said desire,
even if by simply seeing
your face close to mine,
is terrible, awful, and nightmare-inducing.

Dreams that need to become real
rarely do
in a timely manner.
Copyright 2010 Caitlin Wynkoop
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