Caytlin Rae

Caytlin Rae Feb 2013

Home,
I’m going home,
Words I hear all the time.
Words that I envy,
Syllabic distress…
Jealousy.
What is home?
For you, it’s the place
You’ve lived for eighteen years.
The place where both parents
Welcome you with open arms.
Laughter
Smiles
Hugs
Kisses
That’s not my life.

What is home?
The place where I moved
When I was thirteen?
A brown shingled roof that hides
Hurt, divorce, a mixed family
That will never get along?
Screaming, yelling, fighting,
Something different every time, and
They wonder why I want to leave

Caytlin Rae Feb 2013

The Man of My Dreams

When he gazes at me,
I am a puddle that has melted
To the ground
For his stare is so intense
It could break even the strongest steel.

He tells me jokes every morning.
Just to see me smile
Just to make me laugh
Before we begin our days.

We have these deep conversations
That nobody else could get me to speak.
He knows that I keep myself held high
He knows that sometimes, I just need
To break.

He understands where I am coming from,
But he won’t always let me win.
He knows when his argument is valid.
Although he hates to fight,
He knows how to.

He holds me every night,
My hands close,
But my heart closer,
And whispers in my ear how much he loves me.
Not because he needs to.
Because he wants to.

I trust him.
And I don’t trust anybody.
He is completely honest with me,
Just as I am with him.
And for once,
Just this once,
I believe him.

Caytlin Rae Feb 2013

Unwritten Story

An unwritten story
That will never have words.
A sentence waiting to be spoken
That is never going to be heard.
A quick glance in your eyes,
Just as swiftly, looking away.
Talking to you every day, but
Still not knowing what to say.
Alone time together?
We’re just friends, so it’s fine.
What are you thinking?
That you want to be mine?
I hate that you say you’re imperfect,
Because you’re everything to me.
What more could I love in a person?
What is it that you can’t see?
Hearing your ridiculous laugh
Always brightens up my day.
I’m shutting out these thoughts, though,
Because they’re useless, anyway.
We’ll never be together
You’ll never feel the same.
When I’m gone in August,
You’ll probably forget my name.
Until then, I’ll catch stars in your eyes
Only when you cannot see.
I will write some rhymes and poems
About what could never be.

Caytlin Rae Feb 2013

Run Away

Running away is a funny thing.
It’s looked at as a sign of weakness,
Almost a breaking point,
That only approaches
The weak and feeble.

What if the weak and feeble
Are the ones who always stay?
The people who spend their entire lives
Locked up in the same place.
Trapped in this place that is either
Paradise or prison,
Depending whose eyes you are behind.

What if running away only happens
To those of us who are brave?
Those of us who are not scared to defy
Everything we have had drilled into our brains.
Not afraid to leave everything behind
And start completely anew?

Running away
Maybe is not such a funny thing…
Maybe running away is absolutely serious
Because it’s all I want right now.
Maybe this town just isn’t big enough
For the person I’ve become.
Maybe I’m absolutely positive
That I’m not where I need to be.

Caytlin Rae Feb 2013

Giving

From such a young age,
We are taught to give….
And I’ve always wondered,
What does it mean?

“Giving” might be giving gifts to friends.
Is a shiny, paper-covered box
With a blue ribbon and bow
How I’m supposed to say I care?

Is “giving” looking in my wallet
For some spare change during church,
So I have something to show for
When the plate is passed to me?

I’ve discovered, sometimes “giving”
Was when I let my sister sit shotgun
Just to hear mom and her argue while
I’m passing time alone in the backseat.

After all these confused years,
Can I even say what “giving” is?

I have no pretty wrapping paper.
I have no money to put on the plate.
I’m too old to argue about the front seat.

I guess “giving” is when I see the old man
Struggling with that door to the flower shop,
And opening it for him while he grins
From underneath his golfing cap.

Maybe “giving” is asking the young mother
With loads of bags, and kids,
At the corner grocery store
If she would like any help today.

“Giving” is probably handing that woman
Without a home or even a car
Some cash, or maybe some food,
Because she needs anything she can get.

“Giving” is not what this world is these days.
People have forgotten how to share.
See, the problem with this “giving,”
Is that nobody gives a **** anymore.

Caytlin Rae Jan 2013

An Older Sister's Prayer

There is my little sister,
The radiant one, you see.
Yes, she’s the one with the brown eyes,
The one that’s short, like me.
It’s plain to see she’s gorgeous,
She’s told so all the time.
She paints the words with color,
And I just write the rhymes.
Her laughter fills a room
It’s a genuine kind of sound.
But my favorite are the things that she
Tells me, with nobody else around.
This girl is always there for me.
She always was, is, and will be.
I guess that’s why I call her my sister…
She’s my eyes when I cannot see.
The thing is, God, I’m worried,
That she’s making the same mistakes.
I try to teach from my wisdom,
But my advice, she will not take.
Her friends are not the truest,
I hope someday that could change.
Boys are not her strong suit…
It seems it’s always rearranged.
So, I pray that she follows her heart
And that it leads her the right way.
That she falls in love with the person,
And not just what he has to say.
I pray that happiness finds her
And that her dreams come true.
Most of all, I want her to believe,
That she can find comfort in you.
I’m still worried, God, I need guidance…
For though it helped just talking to you,
I lastly will pray that she listens.
For all these words that I’m sharing are true.
One more thing, God, while you have the time,
When I leave, will she be okay?
Please, let her know that I love her.
Because I’ll be missing her every day.

Caytlin Rae Jan 2013

Teddy Bear's Poem

Sometimes I wonder…
What if I was my teddy bear?
The one with the brown fur that
With me, has gone everywhere?
I think I’d remember the name
My girl gave me.
The moment she brought me to life…

Yes, the moment she made the wish
On that heart, and put it
Straight into my chest.
She doesn’t remember that wish,
But I do
And I’ve tried my best to make it
Come true.

The happy times when I
Was brought everywhere,
Dancing in her room,
Or brushing her hair.
Or the lonely times where I
Sat in her closet, waiting.
I knew she would be back for me.

The time she retrieved me again,
I was excited; but she was sad.
So I comfort her, though I cannot
Hug her back.
No matter how much I try.
My cotton arms are limp
While she tightens her grip
On me.
She tries to transfer her pain
Into my stuffing.
She wanted to be free of the hurt
And the suffering.

She was happy the next day,
Or so she tried.
But then, I’ve seen everything
That, from others, she tries to hide.
I was left up on her bed,
And I waited for each night.
She would crawl under the covers
And cuddle me tight.

The days turned to months
And the months turned to years.
Eventually I was forced
To face my biggest fear.
My girl, she would graduate ,
Any day, now.
I knew I had to pray
That I could leave with her, somehow.

While she packed up for college,
I sat quietly on her bed.
For how could a bear blame her,
For not wanting a
Stuffed animal
To tag along?
She packed up all of her things,
Climbed into her bed for the very last time.
She laid her head on that pillow,
And softly, she started to cry.

She quietly sobbed to me,
About her wishes, dreams, and fears.
And for another time, my fur
Soaked up her tears.
When the next morning she woke,
Scared and out of place,
She turned to me and smiled,
With a bright look on her face.
The boxes were out of her room,
She finally picked me up.

Here I sit now, in a dorm room.
In case my girl needs me.
I know I’m the only boy
That has been here through everything.
The years full of tears and cheers.
Maybe someday, a man will
Take my place.
But until that moment,
I am here.