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Nov 2013 · 790
Content Happy
Cassandra Cane Nov 2013
I’m content happy
smiling happy
but not crazed
not jovial
not ecstatic
not brilliant with color
and roses and happy faces
Just happy.
A gentle warmness
quiet and soft, glowing.
not fireworks
not the invention of the decade
not dramatically jolly
not anything more than content.
It’s perfect.
Nov 2013 · 1.5k
Anaconda
Cassandra Cane Nov 2013
I hate you, and yet,
This is the most beautiful
Tragedy I’ve ever experienced.

Simple-minded wonder
Of how your hands could lace
With mine ever so perfectly.

Nothing makes this okay
I’m not okay. This isn’t okay.
The electricity when our hands touch
No, this is not happening.

I hate you.
I have for years.
Why would it change now?

Is it because of the way
You held my face as I was falling
After taking the blow, you caressed me
Why do I forgive you so easily?

I love you.
No, but I can’t.
You’re stupid.
I hate you.

And I’ve gotten to know you
To know the blue of your irises
That turn into the dark emerald
When you strike

Like a snake

But you’re my snake.
I’ll forgive you for everything
Because I can’t resist
The way you wrap yourself around me
And **** the life out of my bones.

My very own personal Anaconda.
Aug 2013 · 612
Life of a Tree
Cassandra Cane Aug 2013
winding
finding
it's way
up to the light

growing
knowing
it'll never reach
however try it might

sipping
dripping
the honey that's
always sweet despite

whispering
haunting
children who
wander in the night

browning
drowning
in winter
losing light

slouching
bending
to follow
what's right

whisking
missing
the lovely
spring daylight

risking
kissing
the other
trees nearby

wanting
haunting
the days
as they pass by

lusting
crusting
around thoughts
and wondering why

hungering
questioning
longing to know
where is the light

burning
dying
saying one
last goodbye

blackened
lost now
as the sun
returns the light

but it's too late
to take back goodbye
Jul 2013 · 885
When You Walked Away
Cassandra Cane Jul 2013
There consisted of no goodbye, only footsteps that hurt more with every stride.
Our last conversation ended with a sigh and absolutely no understanding of why
This comedy stood an excellent chance, but halfway through, we changed the dance
The horse lost her dainty prance; the cowboy didn’t remember his fighting stance.
Ballet crumbled into a mixture of stumbles; the poor boy forgot how to be humble.
An attempt to rebuild the township crumbled; while the neighbor’s boy mumbled
Something about the nearby dock story: the ship is our only escape, oh her beauty
We climbed aboard, but she had her holes prematurely; you whispered furtively
To the ***** dog begging at the chef’s door; the dancer switched roles with the *****
You started acting like you could be the age of four: needy and hanging around more
A fortune teller said one day I would be free and that one day I’d understand and see
How you’ve recently been acting so desperately in favor of maybe ending up with me
I don’t know if I’ll ever reciprocate with the same amount of affection you show every day
Maybe it’s better this way, so I decided that, today; I think I’ll just watch you walk away

Instead of stopping you.

— The End —