Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Caro Mar 17
It's March in California and,
It feels like an early September evening in Virginia,
An owl is cooing,
A nostalgic singsong that reminds me of the woods behind my parents house,
Comfort seekers in my senses inflate,
Disappearing into a heady haze,
Anything to distract myself from the mini self-betrayal I just executed.

I can watch myself as I do it,
Basking in this nostalgia,
The detachment from my pain easing my shoulders,
Making me feel high,
Or maybe it's the serotonin and dopamine,
Coursing around in my body,
Freely,
As it pleases,
Results of.

The owl is howling and my roommate is home,
My phone is silent and I'm blissfully alone,
Detachment, detachment, detachment,
My favorite drug, how I've missed you.

So sickly happy,
So near to trauma,
(my familiar place)
But my perspective saving me from feeling it..

I could be in Virginia in 2008,
My legs a little hairy,
A breeze blowing through my long, long hair,
Innocence teasing me.

Or I could be here, now,
Listening for an owl that has stopped calling.

How delicious. Sweet detachment.

My favorite drug.
Caro Mar 3
A romance novel I read
about an Irishman and the warm side of the bed
and a homestead
and a big chest to lay my head
and the way you **** me till I’m dead
and
Honey seeping from my lips
that you throw back and back
coating your throat
and making you float
and making you spin
me watching you fall in
and
Down as you go
but never on me
certain intimacies
kept privy
for another girl who will love you
like you love me
but every week you're here
and I’m here
and
Your cardio is improving
but your insecurities are making you
pinch me ever harder and
your drunken red head
gets hotter and hotter
weeks go by and
I'm craving your scents and
I’m craving the dent
that you made in my bed
but you’re wanting more and more
and that I can’t give
but
Months later I still crave your high and riding
your body with your hands on my thighs
big freckled arms
and that noble nose that knows
how to rub my cheek
and you bite my teeth
you caress my moods
storybook hands that squeeze
me
and hold my gaze
look at me sideways
tell me secrets I shouldn't know
say nothing
and
sweat drips from your curly orange mop
slow motion splash the pillow
falling down from the crown
cinematic memory telling me
we should have never stopped
but we did and
you
did and now
I’m here in my bed you’ve never been in.
Caro Feb 9
Sleepless in Seattle on my mind and in my feelings,
Making me feel moody and 90's,
Chunky belts and colorful, dark sweater,
Old airports in family comedies,
Big clunky landline phones,
When Harry Met Sally and I watched it on a plane for the first time last summer.
Baroque in my headphones and 1950's swing playing from the ceiling

Girls talking loud, so important,
Deciding options for their next photo shoot,
sweet and divine making their plans.

And me
Silently observing, enjoying

If I were an overweight man
probably
I would be creepy

But I am a nice package

They're in L.A. for the weekend.
Oh, they've been to London and "her boyfriend is an *******"
She wore the baby blue, "it was my mother's", and it brings out her eyes
Why is he friend's with Madeline?
She's a *****
But we like her. She's very bold.

Plans laid and heading out. Good for them.

And I'm still here.
Ache in my neck,
Baroque in my ears (because I heard it improves learning and slows heart rate),
This anti-poem coming from my fingertips

Alone in this cafe and now the mood has shifted.
Caro Jan 8
Double yous and Vees

Mouth tickling me and mixing vees

Vife and happy to be
Abs and accent and happiness for the rest of this
Caro Jan 8
Manifesting as a goddess
Island of light or ocean
Or earth
Or universe

I feel star threads attached to my elbows and my rib cage where wings would grow
We dance together

Lightly affecting these precious astral ones with my desires and my light

O humanity, O goddess in me
Part of that star-freckled deep blue black space

Magia, magic woman

So light and free and golden to be
Manifesting my life exactly as I want it. It feels good to be this clear. I feel radiant, brighter than the sun and cooler than the breeze.
Caro Jan 4
sometime
s

I wish

I

was a fashion designer or someonelikethat maybe living in newyork being botheredbymynicotineaddiction but happy to not have to go stand intherain

wearing bellsleevesonatuesday and feeling n i c e and callingmymotherbefore dinner and having lunch withmybest friend and her dog

and living a life asleep

sometimes

it feels good towishicouldbe someone else and to know that instead i will alway
s

b e  m e
just over tired and taking a break to write out some thoughts while I work
Caro Dec 2018
Anxious she finds herself
Though lately less so
Childhood bed
In her childhood home
Thinking childish thoughts in her childhood head
Russian nesting doll

Nesting
Nesting soon to be though not so
Rings and nausea
And please let me sleep
Head in her mother’s lap

Mental illness and lack of routine
Tapping on her glass

The blurry light from the hallway outside the bedroom reflecting on the shiny wooden headboard.
How many many many times has this dappled wood revealed its imperfections in that blurry reflected light?
Put me to sleep with your consistency and resolve

Thank you little light
And mother’s hands that flipped the switch
And eyes that remember
And mini terrors of her adolescents that gave this reflection the right to sweep across her consciousness in swooning waves that feel soothing as they scrape.

In this moment its comfort is quite enough
Trying to fall asleep over the holidays and the blurry reflection of the light on the headboard that I didn’t know was so familiar to me
Next page