Thursday, March 20, 2014


I believe in postcards & handwriting
The way other people believe in God.
                        words are my faith

There is no love like a handwritten note.
There is no solace like getting mail.
There is no despair like a letter sealed.
There is no joy like buying new stamps.

Fate Runs Free (flash fiction)

Your head rested on my chest as I stroked your hair. We talked about our parallel lives that only collide in moments like this-- sitting on our beds confessing all of our secrets like we were under interrogation, truths pouring from our mouths.
Maybe we weren't meant to be together after all-- maybe we're only supposed to be together like this-- maybe we are supposed to keep each other like all of our secrets, in a dark remote place in our hearts-- a place no one else is brave enough to go.

It makes me sad to think about-- but it makes the world seem a magical place-- a place where fate runs free & always brings us back together.

Fire Escape Melodies

I forget what that woman looked like--
     Brown eyes

but I have not forgotten the look she gave me -- a look like magic.

A cigarette dangled precariously from the corner of your mouth -- I snatched it away to smoke it myself as I watched the city turn around trying to find from where your voice wafted. No one thought to look up . . . Except for her.

As she pulled her bike onto the sidewalk beneath us, her gaze met mine through the bars of the fire escape -- and like she was fully aware of all the love we were in, she smiled at me, as you, unaware, strummed your guitar furiously.


I've been getting in the short story mood, but I am not very good a length, just narratives of passing moments. Any suggestions?

Monday, March 17, 2014

The Ice Storm

The sky is white outside my window;
The world is completely silent.
Except for the cracking of trees & telephone poles;
Except for the world breaking around me.

                        Wood snaps under the weight of ice.
                        I snap under the weight of thought.

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Siren Song

I’m scared to leave
But the road is calling
Like a siren’s song
Like a siren piercing the air
With impatience and importance

Brazen Boy

You said sorry
& so it all began again.
A little different-- it has been a year,
but completely the same. Wholly the same.
Like déjá vu

The clock striked midnight--
The day before St. Patty's.
You freshly single.
Last minute-- reckless-- plans at a bar
that are just an excuse
to be near each other.
Coy as fuck.

My friend leaves early-- we drink more.

You're upset about her.
You're infatuated with me.

You call me baby-- what does that mean?
                                is it meant for me?

Three years later-- we're still 18
                              and fresh

Friday, March 14, 2014


Italian Men

We went to the ocean,
And my friend took our picture.

You were silent on the train;
You were silent at the concert;
You were silent at the bar;

It was my birthday, and the DJ
Demanded you ask him to play
“Sweet Caroline.”

You refused.

I flirted with someone else,
You confided in your friend.

When she was drunk and crying about some boy,
Some Italian men touched her face to comfort her
As she sat on a bench on the subway platform.

I made it better, and later you said,
“You were so good tonight.”

Three days later we broke up,
I didn’t have it in me to cry.

I never understood what happened,
But it always seemed sudden, inevitable.
It felt right, and has felt exponentially

More right as time has passed.

Seasons Change, So Does It

Primordial Soup

Blinking Bar

Symphonies Play

Like silence, like noise

Three poems

Here are some older poems to get started. I will post new ones shortly.


Hi! My name is Caroline. I am a student based in New York City. This my first foray into both poetry and blogging. I appreciate any feedback or comments, and of course any support or promotion.