Light Filters In: Poems

by Caroline Kaufman

this is the poem I never wanted to write. because writing makes it real, concrete, immortal. and I don’t want this memory on paper. I only want it erased.

three months older, three months clean, I thought that I might win. but once again I find myself digging graves into my skin.

all my life has been a script and you wrote every page.

someone once asked me what I would do if finding happiness made me unable to write anymore. and the answer is simple: I would gladly never pick up another pen.

I’d be okay not being beautiful, as long as you thought I was.