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 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
Carolin
He makes love to
everything his hands
touch. He held my diary
and caressed the letters
as he read my story in the
form poetry. Sweat dripped
out of his pores. He watered
the seeds i left on the pages
between each and every write.
And my diary was pregnant
with the flowers of spring
again thanks to his lovely
hands* ~
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
Carolin
I met a boy who's shy
as a fox. He has hair thick
as it's fur. Eyes big ,
round and glow. I met a
boy who's free and wild
like the untamed wolves
who roam around the woods
in the silver moonlight. He's
the boy I love. The boy that
i saved from shapeshifting
in the dead of night. One kiss
before midnight stopped his
body from aching and shaking.
It stopped his bones from
cracking and breaking. One
kiss was all it took to cure his
curse. But he will always remain
my little wolf boy. The boy I
met when I was wondering lost
in the dark. The boy i touched
before he shifted into the
creatures of the night who
hunt for prey and mark their
territories with their paws
and claws* ~
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
Hallee
I guess it's my fault.
I started a family with your fear of commitment.
I fell in love with your "maybe's".
I ignored the way you closed your eyes as you spilled sweet lullabies from your mouth.
I created a future with you following behind instead of tagging along.
I guess it's my fault.
I fell in love with a man only capable of feeding off lust.
I attached myself to a person who was more of a season than a human.
I let myself think that just because I heard the words "I love you", I was loved.
I fell in love, with someone incapable of loving me back.
I'm sorry I'm so angry at you when it is really my fault.
my heart hurts
She embraced the sunlight and danced in the wind and grew flowers in her hair. But the seasons changed and the sun didn't shine and the wind blew icy cold and the flowers died.
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
Carolin
Do you ever wonder
if flowers cry the way
clouds do up in the
sky* ~
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
berry
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***.
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.

- m.f.
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
g
They diagnosed me with
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
and Anxiety Disorder,
less than three months before I told you
I wanted to **** myself.
That was four years ago.

Sometimes, when there's
a moment of silence in my head,
quite like the pause in words when
you've realized you said too much,
I think I should of followed through when you had asked me to.
I think there would be a lot less
heartache for every body I touched
but couldn't love.
I fear that you'll be hidden below their skin,
waiting for me to fall in love again.

Speaking of skin, it's been almost three years
since you last touched mine.
Every July I still scrub a little harder in the shower,
somehow believing that I will forget you again.
You haven't touched me since
the 13th of December back in 2012,
but it feels like your fingertips are still crawling up my skin.

You've fallen in love again, and I can't
hold a steady relationship for more than a few months.
Maybe that's because
I still kiss boys that remind me of you.
Maybe that's because
I still hear you saying
"I never even loved you,"
long after I've forgotten the sound of your voice.

I sometimes catch the gym teacher
looking at me the same way
one would look at their siblings like
"I won't tell if you won't."
I don't mean this to sound questionable, in fact,
he gives me that look when I become distressed, like a mutual
"we don't have to talk about it, just know I know."
He gave me that same look in 2012,
when I threatened to leave you,
when you grabbed my arms and
told me not to walk away from you.
Your grip made me flinch,
and I think back then it was as unnerving
for him as it is for me to realize
I haven't gotten better in the past four years.
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
Hallee
let's get drunk and tell eachother everything we're afraid to say sober. and by that I mean you sit and listen to everything I'm angry about. if your voice mail was set up it would probably be full of venom. id like to repeat to you every lie you ever told me over and over again until you're sobbing. remember when you told me I was the last girl for you? that's my favourite. sometimes I read the letter you sent to me and I can't help but laugh. thanks for proving "just because they said I love you first doesn't mean they'll love you last" is true. what's it like realizing you let the best thing that ever happen to you go? I hope you're happy settling for second best. remember that time you chose drugs over me? I can't keep count. I'd like to pretend that you really care how I'm doing but I get the feeling we both know it's not true. remember that time I told you to run if you were going to leave because it was now or never? you told me the same thing; your now must have been more extended than mine. sometimes it comforts me to know we live under the same sky, then I think about the time you told me you would box the sky up for me if you could. how does it feel to know I can't see a sunset without cringing?
 Jun 2015 Cassie Stoddard
Dr Zik
Hi
Come on
OK
Thank you
See you
Good Bye

and perhaps
I can't do that

but I often observe it all
as a silent picture fixed on a wall
in your deep eyes
about to fall
Zik Poetry
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