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Mar 2020 · 199
Roanoke
Kaye Canter Mar 2020
It rained today in Roanoke;
I got some peace of mind.
It cleansed the headache and my heart
From all I’d kept inside.

The rain today in Roanoke,
It seemed to ease my pain.
All the anger and frustration;
All the work I’d done in vain.

The clouds, they wept in Roanoke.
I’m happy with the grey.
I can’t dance in the sunshine
If we never have some rain.

Thank you, sky in Roanoke.
I’m ready for this fight.
I think all that I needed was
A little time to cry.

-k.c.
This is the first poem I've written in over a year. I've been feeling defeated by all of the issues in my work and personal life and bottling everything up. One night, it came out like a geyser. The following morning, on my way to work, it rained. I wrote this piece a few hours later during my lunch break, after my emotions had settled. I aptly named it Roanoke, after the city where I work.
May 2014 · 13.5k
Dear Uncle
Kaye Canter May 2014
I want to write a poem about you,
but all the words sound good in my head until they get out on paper.
I can't make anything out of the slur of words I wish I could say to you.
There's a sentence for all the years I want you to have back,
and words for all the days you spent waiting for probation in a cell.
You are still just as much of a man as you were before they stripped away your sanity.
They say that people make mistakes,
But you had to give up most of your life for just one of yours.
I like to think you spend so much time in the company of a bottle
because somehow, in your mind, you'll find the years that you lost at the bottom of every one.
I want you to know that Alcoholism is not a choice,
Nor is it a death sentence.
I want you to know that I do not bow my head in shame at you;
You are not a monster.
You are a child,
One that never got to experience innocence before it was taken from you.
You are not a trophy to be on display,
You are not a spectacle to be snickered at,
You are not a John Doe to be left lying in the cold,
You are not next week's breaking news,
You are not stupid,
You are not broken.
You are not a statistic,
You are not a stereotype.
You are sick.
May 2014 · 1.2k
5am
Kaye Canter May 2014
5am
When I wake at 5am,
I no longer am greeted by tufts of blond and brown.
Instead I am greeted by a pillow
With an empty indent where you used to lay
And it is then that I realize
When I wake at 5am
you will never awaken with me.
Kaye Canter Apr 2014
I love you.
When I say it, I want to laugh at myself
Because "how can someone love somebody they have never even met?"
"How can somebody love someone whose hands they have never held, whose scent they have never smelt, whose arms they have never been encompassed in?"
They say Skype doesn't count,
That video chatting doesn't mean you've really met them.
That talking on the phone doesn't mean that the butterflies you get in your stomach are real,
That the person you love is a mirage of pixels
and let's not forget the, "he could be a serial killer"
or "you don't really know who they are"
My personal favorite is "he's probably a forty year old *******."
But I love you.
They say that "love isn't based off appearances," but even so, I know that your eyes are green somedays or blue the next,
you hate the way your hair flips in every direction
and falls into your face because you can't make out the words on the screen behind the curtain of brown-
I know that your left shoulder blade protrudes more than your right,
And that you get breakouts on your cheeks if you sleep too often.
Love is based off "personality."
I know that you're funny,
you love football,
you hate to see a woman cry,
that you're rude all the time, except to your grandmother
that you only joke around so much because you're afraid of being hurt,
you love pizza,
your dog is your pride and joy.
Why can you be in love with someone the same gender
or someone a hundred pounds heavier or lighter
Or someone ten years younger
Or someone with a disability?
Because you love for personality,
because love is blind.
But why is that when I love you for your personality,
I am the one who is blind?
You don't love your partner for the way they feel or how they smell or how much they weigh
You love them for the words they say to you.
You love them for how "I love you" slides off their tongue like molasses,
For how "you're beautiful" isn't just a compliment, but a promise.
You love them for the way they make you feel, not for the way they feel to you.
I love you because you know more about me than people who have known me my whole life,
Because you've made me feel more alive in the last three years than I've ever felt in my entire life,
That you, someone I've never met,
has stopped me from suicide
and kept me from burning or cutting
yet people in the same house as me haven't noticed that depression is even a problem.
When I say I love you, I want to laugh at myself,
Because we still live in a society where love is only real if you can hold it in your hands.
This is just a rough draft, but I needed to post SOMETHING. Getting really tired of people saying long distance or online relationships aren't real.
Kaye Canter Feb 2014
Trot beside me before I start at a run,
Trying to find someplace new to be shunned.
The two of us, we’re surely a pair,
With my dark brown skin and your snow white hair.

Surely, in past lives, I was just like you,
Knowing no home but the one I’m used to.
Accepting of this just as constant as they are,
Never knowing the pain of self-inflicted scars.

And maybe, at some point, I too relied on senses,
Knowing nothing of the world beyond large wooden fences
Yet somehow being able to bring myself pure joy
By carrying with me the simplest of toys.

I bet that, perhaps, you’re some version of me,
That our meeting was more than coincidentally,
I know that, without you, my other half would be gone,
Forever lost in the form of a fluffy white Bichon.

I wonder if, sometimes, you wonder about what’s beyond the yard,
Or long to be in tales worthy of songs from the bard,
I wonder how often it is you feel alone,
Whimpering protests when my footsteps are gone.

It’s far beyond your simple comprehension,
But because of you, my life has a mission.
To see you excited when no one else cares,
It brings me out of my lingering despairs.

The small things you do, like lifting your leg
And using the restroom on even small pegs,
Things that, to you, are what life’s all about.
But things that, to me, I’d rather live without

The small things like the way your ears flop when you run,
A small little hop on four legs; I poke fun,
Somehow even the smallest of things bring me joy.
Like when you run away, come home, and attempt to play coy.

You measure life without regards to time,
You only know moments by how much you waste of mine.
I measure life in the future; I live years from now.
Yet the two of us manage together, somehow.

To my parents, caring for you is merely a chore,
Something to keep me busy or occupied when I’m bored.
But to me, caring for you, it’s much more than that,
I’d stop all I’m doing at the drop of a hat.

I refuse to dwell on reminders that you,
You’ll one day be just a distant memory, too.
I can’t imagine you one day not eating or old,
With black claws wrapped around you in a vicelike hold.

With you, I know someday we’ll travel the world,
I’ll give you all the things that I couldn’t before.
And if, there comes a day when to death I concede,
If I’ll be with you, no convincing I’ll need.
Feb 2014 · 471
You.
Kaye Canter Feb 2014
You know me better than I know me,
or perhaps I don't really know myself at all.

Maybe I only I liked the way the burns felt
because the heat marked the place of where your hands should have been,
and the pain reminded me of how bad it hurt that they weren't.

And you know my fears before I have to face them;
that racism is no longer a war of picket signs and water hoses,
but the way your father will look at you when he sees the way you look at me,
and the way your mother will look at me when I look at her for some hint of acceptance
and only find disgust in the shadows where her eyes should have been.

I know you better than you know you,
because you don't really know yourself at all.

Maybe you only inhaled crystal grains
because every shard of glass that shredded your lungs reminded you
of the times you tried to take a breath but realized that you were suffocating.

Because your pockmarked walls had holes that matched the ones in your heart,
one for every person that falsely assumed that abandonment
only created wounds that were self inflicted.

And maybe that's why we are like two jigsaw pieces from different sets,
that somehow managed, by chance, to match each other's jagged edges
and create a whole new picture.
A one in a million chance, that we both took.
Feb 2014 · 890
Dark Skin
Kaye Canter Feb 2014
The best thing about having dark skin is that the scars camouflage themselves,
That you don't fit into the pale-skin-dark-clothes-slit-wrists stereotype
That you're more likely to be profiled as a criminal than "emo,"
so no one ever bothers to check anyways.
The best thing about having dark skin is that my burns heal,
they leave barely noticeable discolorations in my dark skin.
That only I can make out the slight change in shade from brown to browner.
And maybe you could too, if you squint a little.
Maybe, just maybe you'd see the dark brown stripes
painted permanently against my even browner wrists.
The best part about having dark skin
Is that no one checks your wrists,
because everyone is too busy looking at your curly hair,
your big nose,
your big lips.
"are you on welfare?"
"do you use food stamps?"
"do you eat watermelon and kool-aid
with a side of fried chicken?"
Because no one ever stops to think
that black girls
would ever think about hurting themselves, too.
Kaye Canter Jan 2014
If I even began to try and tell you how much I love you, this wouldn't ever end.
I love you more now than when I was your best friend.

Despite what people may think about the love that we both share,
Its something that I'm proud of  and unafraid to declare.

Right now, its 3:40 and I'm unable to go back to sleep,
I'm thinking about you and the promise I just can't keep.

I'm sorry I can't seem to stay up to read to you as I said,
I'm sorry that you have to face these thoughts within my head.

But baby, if there's anything I know for sure is true,
Its that despite my actions, I'm hopelessly in love with you.

You've been here for me since day one and you've never let me down,
You talk and make me smile when all I know is how to frown.

And if you couldn't see it, or if you doubt its truth,
If, like other people, you start to doubt such love for youths,

I really just need to tell you, as I lay awake in bed,
All the time, its mostly you that resides within my head.

I know that this is cheesy, writing a silly little jig,
Its as though we're both little, passing notes just like we're kids.

But it seems that, for some reason, the words, they flow tonight.
Its the first time in a long time I've been able to just write.

I feel that now is perfect, to explain to you these things,
That make me feel worse than the worst of all my dreams.

You see, if there's anything I'm good at, its writing things like this,
The words, they flow much easier. It kind of brings me bliss.

Baby, let me tell you of the things that make me cry,
Like when I get alone, sometimes I wish that id just die.

Or sometimes, out of nowhere, I just stare and fight back tears,
Because I think of silly things that happened through the years.

Sometimes, on occasion, I even think of you,
I know that its upsetting that sometimes I doubt what's true.

And even still, there's more to tell.
Some things that make me yell.

Like people like my mom and dad,
Who make just living hell.

But baby, if there's anything I've learned now not to doubt,
Its that this love is genuine; you, I can't live without.

And baby, if that's not genuine or if you still can't see,
Think of how you see me, and multiply by three.

That's how I feel about you, although its much much more.
For you, Id be your everything. Id be who you adore.

What makes this thing that we've both special and unique,
Is that we can love each other without kisses on the cheek.

At our age, it seems silly, stupid or naive,
That's what people tell me when I say when I will leave.

But they can't seem to see you in the way that I just do,
They can't seem to tell that I'm desperate to be with you.

Baby, I love you, of this I'm extremely sure.
Baby, you're my everything and still you so much more.

So now I've told you everything, of why my mood just drops,
I've told you of what I think of when I'm crushed by rocks.

I've tried to tell you how I feel, the words aren't flowing freely,
It seems that for now its time for my talent to start to leave me.

So baby, keep your head up now and smile all today,
Don't forget about the words that I always can say.

Baby, I love you, don't forget, now, I'm heading back to sleep.
Thanks for being the only one who doesn't scream "black sheep."
Jan 2014 · 685
I Almost Text You Today
Kaye Canter Jan 2014
I typed in your name into the "To" box,

the same as I do everyday.

I started to send you the familiar hi,

but forgot the promise to stay away.

I now remember the words that I'd screamed

when I told you to leave me alone.

I thought it'd be better for the two of us if,

I'd expressed my need for you to begone.

But now I'm here sitting, regretting those words,

although what we had was taboo.

There never was meant to be what we had,

there should never have been me and you.
Jan 2014 · 1.3k
Cracks
Kaye Canter Jan 2014
There are chips in her armor, like a porcelain doll's face.

Her eyes are dull with a heartless sort of grace.

She's falling through the cracks like a little blade of grass.

She's falling through the cracks, oh, she's falling very fast.

The girl has a name that she wishes to be called.

She has a personality that no one can recall.

Who was she really, truthfully? Did we really know?

And why was it that no one knew just where it was she'd go?

This girl's been crying quite a lot, her eyes are proof of that.

She criticizes her imperfections and tugs at baby fat.

"Why can't I be pretty? Why can't they notice me?"

"Why can't I be the girl of which he is so deserving?"
Jan 2014 · 415
Move Along
Kaye Canter Jan 2014
When you look at me, I just don't see,

the person that I saw last week.

The love is gone, my light forlorn,

my being is consumed by hate and scorn.

How could you say what you dared to,

something you swore you'd never do?

I'm sorry dear, I'm too far gone,

It's time right now to move along.
Jan 2014 · 650
Ivan
Kaye Canter Jan 2014
You tell me of what your name could've been,

had you been the child that Devil wanted.

Your name would've been simply, "Ivan."

Your achievements, he would've flaunted.



But you're not the child you would've been,

Instead you're something new.

And despite his harsh and crushing words,

I'm extremely proud of you.
Jan 2014 · 1.5k
All Hail the Heartbreaker
Kaye Canter Jan 2014
All hail the heartbreaker,

Silent, he’s the king

Of all things that come naturally

When breaking hearts of teens.



All hail the heartbreaker

Bow before it’s late.

For he shall find another

When you were his first date.



All must hail the heartbreaker.

He’s the master of this game.

He got you hook, line, and sinker,

Then left your heart with shame.



So all hail the heartbreaker.

For when he finds his queen,

She’ll break the heart of the one

Who broke the hearts of teens.
Apr 2013 · 779
Doors.
Kaye Canter Apr 2013
My poor heart, it's betrayed me.

It's tearing at the seams.

And my tired little fingers are

reaching for lost dreams.



The little girl I used to be,

She's fading every day.

I wish that I could bring her back,

with words still left to say.



Little girl with tears so large,

they start to flood the floors.

She gasps for breath and grabs her chest,

trying to unlock the doors.
Apr 2013 · 485
Love Is...
Kaye Canter Apr 2013
Love is that boy that means so much to you but so little to everyone else.

Love is that boy that had to sign his signature in court but couldn't write in cursive.

Love is the boy that spent his hard earned money on a birthday gift for you when he needs to eat for the week.

Love is the boy that calls you beautiful despite the way your stomach pokes out over your jeans or your thighs rub together and jiggle when you walk.

Love is the gentle look in his eyes when he stares at you like stars never existed and you're a constellation in the night sky.

Love is the way he grins for you despite being self-conscious about his teeth.  

Love is the way he childishly stuffs soccer ***** up his shirt to make you laugh despite the way your friends make fun of him.

Love is when you still keep that note from him in your wallet even though you broke up over a year ago.
Apr 2013 · 495
On Top of The World
Kaye Canter Apr 2013
Standing atop the hill where we both saw it all;
The sun beat down on our faces as we stood tall.

The two of us knew everything we had to know,
and we knew every place where we had yet to go.

There and forever, it was only just us.
No matter what happened it would not break our trust.

Here and now, forever, somehow,
You swore to me you would keep that vow.

The only thing that could deter our determined faces,
as we took steps in our baby paces,

was the fear of the past and fear of the unknown.
Fear of things that were so far gone.

But as I stood there and around yours, my fingers curled,
I realized we were on top of the world.
Apr 2013 · 422
All The Guys Want Her
Kaye Canter Apr 2013
How is she beautiful with eyes like ice?

And hips like a harlot that makes boys think thrice?

How does she do it, with a waist only inches,

a dainty little thing with a voice like a finch's.

Little miss perfect, they stop and they stare,

waiting for the perfect chance to see her bare.

They don't know her secret, though,

They don't know her like I know.
Mar 2013 · 550
Dear Ann (It'll Be Okay)
Kaye Canter Mar 2013
Dear Ann,
He tore your heart out from the seams; it hurts I know.
You're a beautiful girl with so much to give; you can't let go.
There's a million guys out there for you,
So please don't cry over one or two.

Dear Ann,
I promise, things will get better sooner than you think.
To you, I know this guy was really everything.
I know it's hard; he's all you think of.
How could he give up on this thing you called love?

Dear Ann,
Keep your head up, remember when the tears are worthwhile.
"Never frown," they say, "someone's falling for your smile."
Remember what you truly deserve.
Stay strong, life's thrown you a small curve.

Dear Ann,
I wrote this song for you today.
I really hope you're listening to what I say.
I've been here many times before,
I've banged my fists upon the floor.

Dear Ann,
One day you'll find someone who won't make you cry.
It's really sad how such a good girl finds a bad guy.

Dear Ann,
I hope this cheers you up, I hope you see the light.
And with that, I hope you have a good day and goodnight.
This poem was written for a girl who'd just broken up with her boyfriend and first love. I didn't know her (she was a complete stranger, actually), but I decided to try my best to cheer her up :)
Mar 2013 · 437
Stitches
Kaye Canter Mar 2013
It pains me to hear these words from you.

In a panic; I am unsure what to do.

I bow my head and weep and cry,

I long for the moments that have long since died.

You say I'm drifting, that it's assured,

I say you're lying, that it's absurd.

How could it be, what could you mean?

How could it die, this beautiful thing?

I know I love you, I know that it's true,

You make me forget when I'm feeling so blue.

I remember the laughs and every single tear,

I remember what I felt throughout this whole year.

I fear that what you say is true and it's real,

Something's happening to the way that we feel.

The love isn't strong, it isn't there,

It's as though we're hanging on by a single hair.

What can we do now; how can we fix this?

Can we amend what's been broken with stitches?
Mar 2013 · 373
You Don't Know
Kaye Canter Mar 2013
You don't know how it feels,

To be stripped of your wills.

To do what you're told

when they tell you.



You don't know what it's like

to be forced from your right

to be told who you can

and can't be.



You don't know pain, you don't know harm,

You don't know how it feels to be stripped of your charm.

You don't know.

You don't know.
Mar 2013 · 990
Dear Sweet Girl
Kaye Canter Mar 2013
Dear sweet girl who sobs alone,

The crystals ripped from your throne

You lie there, longing for your death,

and grip your chest and gasp for breath.

Breaking hearts was never easy,

Now you're left feeling queasy.

You wish for a time machine of sorts

to replace your body's missing quarts.

Dear sweet girl who sobs alone,

your planned future shattered and your will gone.

You stare in the mirror, your face bare,

searching for what was never there.

How beautiful that fairytale must've sound,

when he and you lay upon the ground.

His fingers intertwined with yours

your love filled laughter the only noise.

Hopeless girl who sobs alone,

forced from your rotting, miserable throne.

How grotesque it must be,

When pain is all that you can see.

Unbearable, it must truly feel,

To have turned someone so tender to steel.

Guilt must have taken over,

it is apparent by how you hunch your shoulder.

Dear sweet girl who sobs alone,

the crystal jewels, where have they gone?

The pride-stricken heart that used to beat,

lost forever in an eternal sleep.

Dear sweet girl who sobs forever,

why is it now you regret your endeavor?

You must've thought you were so clever

to do unto him what to you he would never.

Dear sweet girl who sobs alone,

The crystals ripped from your throne,

you lie there, longing for your death,

and grip your chest and gasp for breath.

— The End —