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Vamika Sinha May 2015
They didn't know that
her heart was perpetually on vacation,
stuffed
between the pages of Austen and
Murakami.

Yes, they loved her
autumn smiles, her conversations, even
the jazz ensembles of her
clothes. But her heart
was locked in the New York Public Library.

The distance was far
too great, the risk far
too much.
After all, this was the place where Paul
Varjak told Holly
he loved her
and all she did was look at him.
Spontaneous poetry.
brooke  Oct 2014
Moon river.
brooke Oct 2014
oh but I'm
searching for
Cat down the
street alleys
without a
Paul Varjak to
tell me I am my
own cage, *Cat?
Cat. Cat!
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

a longer poem condensed.
Kat Francis Oct 2023
A very old man
Huffed and puffed and wheezed his way to a computer in the library today
Thank god there was aircon

I’m so tired of looking at Instagram
I can’t imagine having to huff and puff and wheeze up 6 flights when I’m walking with a cane

I once took Xanax and made sand angels on the beach for hours
There’s so much space on the beach

I bet it was easier to be Paul Varjak in the 60s
They still had stairs,
But otherwise, all you looked at were the clouds and your typewriter.

— The End —