i pull down my pants,
and then i pull down my skin,

and it seems as though there has been blood stains
since forever,

so when i look down and greet each thigh,
i have begun to greet the floor
as well...

in thinking that they would laugh, when
i trim myself in the mirror,
make cutting motions and
to slice open my skin and everyone else
who says i am
not worth it

but my curves are warm when they hug me,
and i think
i see a girl hiding
between their folds, in the dark...
but in her own body.

so when people look at me, i've learned now
to cower,
to put away my teeth, my hair,
my words of indignation,
turn into that tiny girl, where
i'm always safe, always small...
always alone.

where i am crucified, but loved,
hungry, but not wanting,  

but only for now.
my mom has always told me the story of two babies named love and wrestling... i am so so so proud of this poem
so you say that we are from the people
who buried their dead
with flowers.

and you say that when
the world ends, we will simply learn to fall

i wonder,
if there will still be love when we convince
that everything is still alright.

but how can we love the children that
we lie to…
and how can we trust those who
we forsake…

when you look me in the eyes next time,
or when you look at that spot, right beside

i will remember our dead,
and i will remember
how you never truly meant to leave flowers.
stop gun violence. rest in peace.
learn to cradle yourself
in your own arms,

be strong, because
your mother loves you, and your
sisters love you,
                             more than i
can ever say.

your body is not temple, because
you exist to survive.
so cherish yourself, and one day,
someone else will…

and it won’t be painful, the
way that things are painful

so bear your teeth,
                                 but wear a crown,
you shouldn’t
bite yourself just to cry...
im so stressed **** me
cait-cait Nov 21
i beg for other people’s *** stories,
because i am broken and unloved...

and when boys snarl,
                             i feel alone, although
i know that they are just laughing...

i’ve found that womanhood is
half shame before everything else,

and i notice how
other girls wave their successes above my head,
as though being ****** is a prize and being loved is an end game,

that screams GAME OVER in bright red.

i will take my silence over your lifestyle any day,
despite the fact that i still cry when you leave.
women can’t exist without being analyzed, tested, and corrected. i wish girls wrote poems about being happy instead. Don’t @ me.
cait-cait Oct 30

i told my mother the other day that i
have decided to be kind,
to love those
who love me (for no good reason)....

and because of, i want to take you in my arms
and hold you so tight
that the world cannot get in.


my baby is dressed in white, like
an angel, and
when he sleeps, he murmurs and
i watch, he smiles,
and then he howls.


you are growing up, and i
watch the way you forsake your mother
and i watch the way
you puff up your chest with lies and then
cower when you see me ....

you are not innocent anymore, and i cannot
hold you to as such when
you hide behind a hood of your parents


your brother does not love me anymore,
and frankly, i do not care.

but you cannot see the stab wound, so
still, i am angry.


i don’t think she loves her best friend anymore,
i don’t think she even loves me.

but how can you tell someone to cut a
piece of themselves off when
you won’t do it for them?

when you don’t even have the right.


i read a poem today, it was about war
and it was about foxes,
i thought of you again...
my fox,

you are a violence...
and a lover.

and when i remembered how you cut me,
i remembered why i have to cherish what i have.
this year, i met a girl who i didnt really like (for no reason), and the other day she overheard me telling my friend that i felt like everyone hated me. she looked at me and said "i like you." and i decided that i always need to appreciate the friends i have even if it feels like i dont have them.
cait-cait Oct 24
i didnt fall in love with this boy,
not this one
                     who tore me to pieces,

and i feel like an angel ,
suffocated in white, my wings were clipped
on the first day you
                                  wanted to kiss me,

and it feels violent,
my halo wasn’t built just to break —

and i did not forgive you,
i never will .

because you were never meant to go to heaven.
It’s so funny I’m not even religious, I just love religion. Ever since I was a child I’ve used it to cope. The title is lyrics from a really dumb song.
cait-cait Oct 21
i cannot seem to find any air
when i am with you .
                         ­             .

i try to make myself anew,
and then
push myself out into a world where i find that
i cannot breathe,

and so when you hit me,
instead of laughing,
i just choke ,

and instead, when i feel water
in my lungs,
i heave
instead of hiccuping,
and finally understand why
i am not the favorite child.
Im actually an only child. Im so angry at my ex right now it’s unbelievable. If I could **** him I would. The line “not the favorite child” has been a theme I continuously end up up coming back to. It’s strange.
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