Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Losing you proved harder than
I'd ever imagined.
So I took the memory
And pretended it never happened.

I buried you,
In the corners of my smile,
And hid you in the gaps between my teeth,
And every once in awhile,
I shone you,
In an attempt to conceal my grief.

I bottled your scent,
And put it in my pocket,
I captured those enchanting eyes
And placed them in my sockets.
I tuned your name into the beats
Of my heart,
I sewed you perfectly, into me,
So as not to tear myself apart.

I took that warm touch of yours,
And carried it in my hands,
I took that soothing voice,
And placed it into bands,
That I laced through my hair,
So when my levels of despair
Reached boiling point,
I'd never forget, that you were there,
That you had always cared.

I took your reassuring grasp,
So I'd never walk alone,
I kept your number,
Tucked neatly in my phone.
I took your kind and gentle ways,
And reinforced them to myself
As the days,
Passed by.

People told me I should start to let go
And I simply replied
With the answer of no.
Because letting go,
Means losing all of you,
And call me crazy,
But that I could never do.
 Jul 2014 Cassie Stoddard
brooke
on

old oaken tables I'll love
you in dark roast coffee
and steamed milk with
honey, against quilted
beds early morning in
the loft, when the sheets
are loud and the floorboards
aren't awake, when the windows
are dewy, we won't speak about
our mistakes.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
Summer sun and car rides.
We drive with Third Eye Blind and Oasis telling us where to go.
Which beach do we jump on today?
Doesn't matter, I'm counting the waves.
We came, found that peace and left our stress.
Sifting sand through laughter and digging holes with hands.
What else could we ask for in life?
That moment. Go find it.
Let's get back there.
Raise your glass.

This is for the man
Who taught me how to ride a bike
When I was five years old,
Who taught me how to lay a brick
Wall with my own two hands,
Who taught me how to love
My heritage and my roots
While embracing change and newness.

Raise your glass.

This is for the woman
Who carried me for nine months
Whilst giving me my love of steak,
Who read stories of imaginable fantasy
And sang crackling fireside songs
To lull me into slumber,
Who taught me to Love
Even when she herself had forgotten how.

Raise your glass.

This is for the women
Who know me better than anyone else
For they have grown with me
In ways only siblings can,
Who taught me to fight for myself
And simultaneously be merciful
For I am not a perfect person,
Who gave me all the love I need
And then some simply because
They wanted to.

Raise your glass.

This is for who we were.
This is for who we are.
This is for who we will be.

Raise your glass.

Some blood is thinner than water.
Some ties more easily severed.
Yet we live because they existed
If even but for a single moment
And for that,
We give tribute.

Drink.
 Jul 2014 Cassie Stoddard
r0b0t
Jump
 Jul 2014 Cassie Stoddard
r0b0t
how can you expect me to talk you down from a ledge when I'm the one on it?
It's funny how the little things
Like breakfast for dinner
With your best friends
Or playing hide and seek
At ten o'clock
Under fluorescent lights
Can make your life significantly better.
With every laugh
I felt my body smiling
I felt my cheeks reddening with joy
And I felt my soul being warmed
By the best company. It doesn't matter
Where you are;
Fast food at midnight,
Huddled in a seated car,
Sitting on plush carpets next to
A roaring fire,
Talking, writing, laughing, ranting, it's the company,
It's knowing that people trust you
With their secrets,
Care enough to make you smile,
Want you to be with them-
That's what matters.
Saturday night
I laughed until I cried.
For the first time
In days
Weeks
I felt connected-
I felt wanted and loved, and most of all,
For once,
I felt happy.
 Jul 2014 Cassie Stoddard
g
Breathe
 Jul 2014 Cassie Stoddard
g
I am not so sure quite
What frightens me most;
The knowledge that my
Hands could break
You in half, metaphorically,
Or the inability
To judge the way
You could break me, literally.

I find myself lying next to bodies
To feel their heart,
As if their breathing
Could somehow remind me
That I am still here, that
I still breathe among them.

We can destroy the
Homes we made in people,
With the same shaky hands
We used to build them.
We can rip apart the same flesh
We tenderly kissed just hours before.
We are monsters;
I cannot breathe among them.

I've been finding myself
Alone in dark rooms,
Often with the ghost of
Your past and God,
Do we miss you.

I can no longer trust
My judgement on others;
I will lower them to my standard,
I will rip them apart
In my mind until they
Are no longer human,
But rather pawns.
I cannot love you like pawns.

I don't think I can love you at all.
And Gaza Says," O the Sons of Adam
The people of Moses
The people of Muhammad
Stop Will You?

I feel the Tankers on my body
They are trampling me

I hear the Missiles
They pierce through My Soul

I see the tearful Widows
the cries of the children
Fear in the Eyes
the Funerals

I hear the pleas
I hear the screams
the cries for help
the prayers
the curses
the complaints to the Almighty


Blood is Smeared on to My Face
Human blood- a Precious blood
The blood of Adam

I am ploughed
often daily
to bury the lifeless
the young
the old
the men
the women
the infants

I see debris,destruction
devastation
the helplessness

I feel the hatred
in your hearts
your words
translated through your actions

I wonder
Why are the innocents paying the price
of this War?

O Sons of Adam
O the Sons of Abraham
Don't Forget
O You the People of Moses
O You the People of Jesus
O You the People of Muhammad
Your Lord
Your God
is but One

Fear Him

He hates Oppression

Did you all
forget
the Fate of the Pharaoh?

the Worst of the Oppressors."

( Peace be Upon All the Prophets)
Stand Up for GAZA Stand Up for Humanity
Next page