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Cassandra L Aug 2015
Fix your ink upon my brow
Maybe I am nothing now
Your signature upon my curves
Please give to me what I deserve
Give to me with messy hand
All the words that you have planned
Please tell to me precisely how
You'll make me more than nothing now
Cassandra L Jul 2013
I usually don’t notice things
Like eyes,
Or ears,
Or lips.
But I know yours are blue
Like sorrow,
Or sky,
Or lines on blank paper.
I wonder if my choice was the right one
Like fear,
Or failure,
Or pain.
Then I try to remember
His ears,
His lips,
Or his eyes.
I don’t know what colour they are
Like hope,
Or hurt,
Or attraction.

And I know I made the right choice
Like smiles,
Like stories,
Like blue eyes.
Cassandra L Jun 2014
It's hard to be quiet with music in my ears
and it's difficult to fall asleep with your memory so near
There's no kind of silence and not a thing is clear
it's difficult to fall asleep because I know that you're not here.
Cassandra L Jun 2015
I want you to unfold me.
You look like you know how.
If you plead to tear my seams
There's much I would allow.

I want you to unzip me,
To part the shackled teeth.
Please rip me where the fabric's thin
and kiss what lies beneath.
Cassandra L Aug 2013
The memory is a leaky facet
That drips with mud and sweating suns.
It splatters so shamelessly upon stained fabric.

Beads of light caught in the spiders noose
That is how I saw you.
You were a blanket of truth that tucked me in too tight.

Your words words were needles
So carefully administered no suspicious flicker
Entered me.

I became a river
With a stomach full of stones
and you sank me
to the bottom.
Cassandra L Jan 2015
I think I need to fall in love
with a poet.
So that maybe all the words
and all the hurt won’t always be mine.
I need to fall in love with a poet
so that he will whisper words
that sound better than stories and
don’t need to last as long.
I want to be the one to fall in love
with a poet.
He can make me feel something
so that all the love and the futures
won’t always come from another. And I
will write stories about us
in another world with better lives
where poetry will be sung from
the love, which dies so poetically
and I will know that I loved
a poet.
Cassandra L Jul 2015
I want the scars
deep and true,
I want no questions
from you.

Tell me how you'll
kiss the lines
that I have sliced
a hundred times,

Open yourself,
let me see
and you'll have no questions
from me.
Cassandra L Oct 2016
I used to write sad poetry
For all the love I couldn't see.

Ink kissed freckles on my skin
where lover's fingers never been.

And cursive letters that I wrote
He never said, I couldn't quote.

And when I laid my poem's bare
Only stranger's eyes laid there.

I tore them up and let them die
I've no words left, my pen's run dry.
Cassandra L Aug 2013
Oh my peaceful dreamer
how have I gotten here?
My legs will do the walking
when my dreams are all I fear.

Oh my restful darling
the sun is growing near,
all I ask is stay with me
and whisper in my ear.

Oh my sleeping sweetheart
the cliff I stand is sheer.
At the base I shall remain
when pain begins to sear.

Oh my peaceful dreamer
how have I gotten here?
I feel the darkness calling
so I must disappear.
Cassandra L Oct 2013
dig in your feet
you are an inchworm of sheets
who lingers on wings

cling to a chrysalis
of charm and discomfort
more patience, less sleep


let your fingers bloom
and your lashes flutter
to catch every river of wind


pull on your socks
leave the window open
Cassandra L Mar 2014
All the stars in the sky are not wanted,
the injunction refuses that ending.
Follow forever, remain undaunted
and your heart very soon will need mending.
The sequence will be always ascending,
though a conclusion is constantly sought.
Patterns in one who is ever-pretending
endure unto the moment she is caught.
Plans of pursuit and that 'hunt-the-doe' plot
will motivate a determinant run.
With efforts that will be spent all for naught,
and so that cowardly deer, she has won.
Whoso shall enlist to hunt this one yet?
Not death she fears, but the life of a pet.
A Spenserian Sonnet in response to Sir Thomas Wyatt's 'Whoso List to Hunt?'

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