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Caitlin Aug 6
The first time I saw him, it was through the glass window of the space that he moved into right around the corner. I thought it was a weird spot to move into but shrugged it off because it was none of my business.

The first time I met him, he was wearing the exact pattern of red and black plaid that I’ve been looking for whenever I shop. I stared at it and felt a little defeated that someone found it before I did! But I made no comment.

The first time I spoke to him, I thought nothing much of him at first. the words I used to describe him were “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”. He was…simple. he spoke like he would steal those cheesy catchphrases like “she was like a shot of espresso” — which is what Andrew Garfield said about Emma Stone. And so I walked out of there as if it was just another Monday.

Several Mondays and cheesy catchphrases later, that little place around the corner that was made of brick started to feel more comfortable, and I saw him more often. Slowly, I realized that there is some charm in simplicity. Eventually, I stopped using the words “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”, and I started using the word: familiar. There is so much comfort in the familiar.

At this point in time I seem to always find myself back at that familiar little brick place around the corner. at the end of each day, I go there hoping to find solace. And I always do. If I was into those cliché phrases I would describe it as a warm cup of hot chocolate after a long, rainy drive. It’s a fireplace during a snowstorm. But saying those cheesy catchphrases would be really lame of me, so…

If I were to put into words how I now feel about this person… This must be how it feels when people are looking for a new place to move into. They have this image of their dream house or fantasy apartment. maybe they picture a place with a marble countertop, a dining table made of mahogany, and a ceiling high enough to hang a glass chandelier from. But then, just as they had given up on searching for that dream place, they come across this little cottage made of brick and hardwood floors. There is a leather couch in the middle. They take a seat. Suddenly, they can picture their life there so clearly: nothing but the pitter-patter of the rain drumming on the window pane, the sound of the coffee machine running in the background, and a slice of chocolate cake waiting for them in the refrigerator. It was the familiar feeling of comfort after a tiring day. It was so far from what they had first pictured, but they are absolutely certain that they want to make a home here.

That is how he feels to me now. So far from what I had pictured, but certainly where I want to be at the end of each day. But the funniest part of all of this is: He was the one that arrived there in the first place. He was the one who moved into that quaint little building around the corner. He was the one who found me. And I am the one waiting here; hoping he finds a home within me.
If you think this is about you,

it is.
Caitlin May 4
i once swore that i would never pray again.

when i painfully stripped myself of faith
all those years ago,
i took an oath
that I would only treat
the expanse of the universe
as nothing but barren space.

but now, i've lost you,
and i have come to resent this belief.
or, rather,
my lack thereof.

do not misunderstand me.
i do not wish to go back
to the life where I had to offer
each step i take
to a supposed almighty man --
a man who,
with all his power and greatness,
allowed me
to be loved so poorly in the past.

but now, i've lost you,
and i spend each waking moment
staring at the empty space beside me.
this bed used to be an altar
where i could lay my flesh and bones
and you would treat me like
the holy grail itself.
now, the emptiness stares right back
with its mocking eyes,
harshly rubbing salt into the open wound
that sits on my heart.

there is nothing there anymore, yet so much lingers.

now, a part of my soul is hollow.
when there was you,
i sent a piece of my heart
on a journey across the sea
without knowing if i would
ever get it back.
i did it simply because i
submitted to this love
in its entirety.
with all the kilometers of land
and water it stretched over,
all of the sacrifices it demanded,
all of its impossibilities --
i revered it blindly.

but now, i've lost you,
and yet again,
i am stripped of faith.
this time, however,
i was robbed.
i did not wish for this to happen.
now, there is a piece of my heart that wanders
through places i will never know.
there is nothing more for me to do
but desperately send out
silent screams
into the void
like prayers,
hoping that my words
echo through the desolate universe
and across our great divide —
even if, by the time they reach you,
they arrive in mere whispers.

if you can hear me,
i am still here.
and i can feel you out there.
please hold that piece of my heart as an offering, and carry it with you until we meet once more, at the edge of eternity.
thank you for reminding me what devotion feels like.
for Waqas,

thank you
  May 4 Caitlin
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
  May 4 Caitlin
Are you still drinking every night?
Who do you scream at now?
Now that I’m not there to bear the brunt of your violent insecurities?
Help is an insufferable waste of air
When the one needing it is in narcissistic denial.
Part of me hopes the crumble of your career
Obliterates your shiny golden god complex.
The rest of me doesn’t give a ****,
Because after the years of manipulating and pain
I’ve torn the shackles, broke free
And you don’t mean a ******* thing anymore.
A forgotten false god.
Enjoy your downfall.
I won’t see it from my rightful throne.
  May 4 Caitlin
Donall Dempsey

I like to say
your name

when you're
not here

turn you
into sound

conjure you out of
thin air

so that you appear
before me

dressed in sound

memory sketching in
the rest of you

as if sound
was just an outline

and love
colours you in

adding the voice last
so I can hear you say.

"Hello you..!"
and there you are

as present
as present

can be.

I like to say
your name

when you're
not there.
  May 4 Caitlin
I step up to the edge, the breeze blowing my hair.
I close my eyes and I can see it.
My feet leave the ground as my wings catch the wind.
I’m flying.
But, when I open my eyes, I’m not soaring
and my feet are still on solid ground.
What if I fall?
I can’t risk it, that pain.
I look around and see others fearlessly facing the plunge,
but I remain frozen in place.
All I can think is, “What if I fall? What if I fall?”
It’s then, in the midst of my frantic thoughts,
That I hear a still, small voice say,
“Yes, but what if you fly?”
  May 4 Caitlin
She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.
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