One Last Note to Share

Poet l 22 l One last note to share, all I wanted with the world, before I head off

[cassemiah]

Some Notes

Some of my poetry gets very dark. I have tried to mark all the poems dealing with different aspects of mental health so if you would like to not see those you can filter them out.

Reblogs are appreciated but no reposting please.

Feel free to send any asks about my poems or anything else. I will try to get to answering them.

Enjoy my One Last Notes.

[cassemiah]

Sometimes I see my mother

In between the loads of laundry

I wonder what she'd think

If she saw me too

[cassemiah]

I know I'll never

escape her laugh,

tumbling out of my mouth,

part witch cackle,

little bit over exuberant joy.

I know that the older I get,

the more the cadence

of my lips slips past,

and the more and more

I step close to filling in her shoes.

Which is all the better,

because I'm never gonna be

15,16,17-

don't you see

I can't go back.

And she can't go forward.

So I take these gifts

and thank a god that doesn't exist,

that even though I have

loquacious lallygagging laughing lips,

I know that my eyes aren't hers but his.

@metanoeins I was told that loquacious is a word only you would use, which I think is a resounding compliment 😌

[cassemiah]

The thing of course is they never read them. Which isn't to say they never care but the pages never turn with memories left thankfully unearthed.

Poems are for strangers and faces, the lack thereof between words and phrases in which memories never change from mysteries.

But he read them. Is reading them. Plans to finish them? Arguably worse.

I wasn't aware pages opened like that and I'm not quite sure I like it. But he can apparently read them and digest them and for some reason I'll let them.

[cassemiah]

I have people I talk to everyday, and then I have you. Only I'm not entirely sure that last part is actually true.

[cassemiah]

2/11/24

[cassemiah]

I think life is about falling asleep in piles of leaves actually, making them in the first place because your friends never got to jump in them when they were kids,

If you were to open a dictionary Paged through the a's to "alive" I'm sure they'd give you different words but I think if I told you

"We collapsed in them together, because it was warm and we were tired, but in the right way

this time, I think, I think there is a right way to be tired."

You'd probably tell me it's too long too many words and not detailed enough But I think Maybe we should go make a new pile And then you'd realize it always made sense.

[cassemiah]

What Obsession Defines You Cass?

I think almost anyone who ever knew me would tell you reading but couldn't tell you of what,

others who spent more time listening to me could probably tell you psychology, but if you asked me and I gave you the truth I'd tell you I don't genuinely know

[cassemiah]

the more and more I find people different in nature and face yet loved again and again the same time and time I realize they all have been interwoven of the pieces and parts loved and sought the most different and the same into new and yet familiar faces and shapes

[cassemiah]

My mother told me once I fill up every space I've been given to possess.

At the time she meant if you placed me in a room I would fill it with things till it was overcrowded and overflowed,

clothes, papers, objects and ideas spilling out where they shouldn't.

I like to think it means more that if you were to ask her again, she'd say it also meant

that no matter where I go or what life I live, I will fill up my space, with inopportune smiles, friends discovered in places they didn't expect, and a life filled up to the entire brim in colors of affectionate laughter.

[cassemiah]

Touch and words of comfort are not something I can say I truly like.

But they need it.

And so I tell them I hug them pet their hair I give them the words "You're loved" and "I truly care" Repeating them often tell them "it's all ok".

I know exactly what they need.

And I know my own lengths I will go if in going I get to keep.

[cassemiah]

I am a man starved. fed then starved and fed and starved and fed.

until I've touched the plate too fast taken away because it was too much too fast, too soon starved till I learn.

sitting on my hands then my words please and pleas leaving me until eventually I learn and I am fed

fed and fed and fed but the hunger will never leave.

hands beneath my knees because even with tens of plates before me the only thing left of what used to be me is to feed.

[cassemiah]

I didn't know you have to understand

I didn't know.

and I could exist in that between

but I do now.

I know now.

I look at you and I'll always know.

I'm a little glad.

we won't ever speak again

we won't speak and

I won't open my lips,

and you won't have to know.

I'm glad you don't know.

or maybe you do.

Did.

but you have to believe me I didn't.

I didn't know

[cassemiah]

I have a bruise right on my thumb

shaped like a bite, staring up at me

begging me to press my teeth in and hold.

I've always seemed to like

the way pain paints my skin

[cassemiah]

How do I explain to you

that your idea of heaven

Is the closest I've ever come

to understanding hell?

[cassemiah]

I've been told I was smart For so long I've forgotten When it stopped being a compliment And more like a problem.

[cassemiah]

It's a Tuesday and I think of you

And I don't miss you

I don't think I care about you

But I text you

Because tomorrow is Wednesday

And I think I'll love you

More than I can fathom

Because it's Tuesday.

And I don't miss you on Tuesdays

And Thursdays and the occasional

Fridays-turned-Saturdays.

I'm afraid.

I'm afraid Wednesday won't come

And I'll be stuck here with you

Not missing you

Hoping sitting with you

Will fix it

Flip some unknowable switch.

I don't know how to love correctly

And at this point I don't think I ever will.