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    Light Filters In: Poems
    Light Filters In: Poems
    Light Filters In: Poems
    Ebook202 pages47 minutes

    Light Filters In: Poems

    By Caroline Kaufman and Yelena Bryksenkova

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    About this ebook

    In the vein of poetry collections like Milk and Honey and Adultolescence, this compilation of short, powerful poems from teen Instagram sensation @poeticpoison perfectly captures the human experience. 

    In Light Filters In, Caroline Kaufman—known as @poeticpoison—does what she does best: reflects our own experiences back at us and makes us feel less alone, one exquisite and insightful piece at a time. She writes about giving up too much of yourself to someone else, not fitting in, endlessly Googling “how to be happy,” and ultimately figuring out who you are.

    This collection features completely new material plus some fan favorites from Caroline's account. Filled with haunting, spare pieces of original art, Light Filters In will thrill existing fans and newcomers alike.

    it’s okay if some things

    are always out of reach.

    if you could carry all the stars

    in the palm of your hand,

    they wouldn’t be

    half as breathtaking
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateMay 22, 2018
    ISBN9780062844699
    Author

    Caroline Kaufman

    Caroline Kaufman—known as @poeticpoison on Instagram—was only a freshman in high school when she began posting her poetry online, and since then she has amassed hundreds of thousands of followers across social media reading her work worldwide. Her debut book, Light Filters In, released in 2018, and she was named one of Her Campus’s 22 Under 22 Most Inspiring College Women in 2018 for her work destigmatizing mental illness through poetry. Caroline grew up in Westchester, New York, and is currently studying English at Harvard University. When she’s not writing, she can be found eating pad thai, harmonizing with the radio, and refusing to believe she’s growing up.

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    Reviews for Light Filters In

    4/5

    34 ratings3 reviews

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    • 4/5
      I need a pick-me-up after reading this collection of poetry. It's pretty dark and emotionally exhausting for my tastes, but there were poems that were flashes of brilliance.

      3.5 stars, rounding upbto 4 because the author deserves some credit for being so open and raw with the world.
    • 5/5
      Poems talking about growing up, depression, recovery, and after recovery. These poems spoke to me. They could have been written by me as a teen had I been a poet. I understand her thoughts and feelings about shutting down then opening up again. Very well done!
    • 3/5
      Caroline Kaufman started out writing the poems in the book as kind of a diary, as a way to work through some $h!t. Then she started to publish her poems on social media. Those poems really resonated with people and she eventually published them in a book. These poems are the author’s way of processing depression, anxiety, abuse, violence, self-harm and other traumas. They also show strength, hope, and growth. I *got* these poems. I understood them and felt those teenage feelings again. Some of them were incredibly familiar in the way they felt; I could have written something similar myself when I was a teen. I’m sure I’ve seen some of these on images and photos online. I enjoyed reading them, even though some of them weren’t pleasant

    Book preview

    Light Filters In - Caroline Kaufman

    The Darkness Falls

    some people have nightmares

    of being naked in public,

    of having every inch of skin

    on display

    for the world to see.

    that used to be my nightmare too.

    but still

    here I am.

    flip these pages.

    take a look.

    lost:

    happiness.

    chapped lips,

    little crooked teeth,

    always smiling.

    last seen eating ice cream,

    dancing to background music,

    chocolate dripping down her chin.

    if found:

    please tell her

    I miss her.

    I don’t dance

    anymore.

    I can point to the very first time

    I felt alone in a crowd.

    I was eleven.

    it was summertime and

    my thoughts tasted sour,

    and I remember being confused

    because before then

    they had always been sweet.

    it was like dipping my toe

    into a pool of sadness,

    oblivious to the fact

    that I would soon be submerged.

    I don’t know who I am.

    I’m trying to look at myself

    in the bathroom mirror,

    but the shower’s running

    and the glass is all foggy.

    I’ve spent so much time

    trying to become who I should be

    that I lost myself along the way.

    I cannot tell you who I loved,

    or where, or when, or why;

    I don’t remember first encounters,

    only each goodbye.

    I push away a feeling passed

    once I know it’s gone.

    it’s far too painful, once at dusk,

    to think back on the dawn.

    I am crowded

    in an empty room.

    I guess it’s the silence,

    the emptiness,

    the nothingness.

    it pushes on me.

    it tells me you take up too much

    space.

    I reply,

    I know.

    in my dreams

    I feel his hands on me.

    when I wake up,

    I check for new bruises

    shaped like his fingertips.

    whenever I walk by him

    I instinctively drag down my sleeves,

    pull my hoodie tighter.

    the body he stained

    is always on display.

    I scrub my skin

    a little too hard

    in the shower,

    trying to get him off me,

    trying to shed any cell on my body

    he might have touched.

    sometimes I scratch.

    sometimes I peel.

    sometimes I bleed.

    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.

    I have come to the conclusion that

    I am a walking paradox,

    a mismatched mix of innocence and experience,

    a bottle of oil and water

    constantly being shaken.

    I overthink the details.

    I miss the big picture.

    I am a perfectionist.

    I am a procrastinator.

    I have strong opinions.

    I am indecisive.

    I am stubborn.

    I apologize too much.

    it’s not physically possible

    to be like this.

    there is a reason oil and water separate

    no matter how many times

    you shake them back together.

    I am black and white dots

    in a body shaded gray,

    and I don’t know which part

    of myself is the truth anymore.

    mercury:

    my mood changes

    too fast for my brain

    to keep up with.

    sometimes, I am okay.

    I really am.

    talking,

    working,

    laughing.

    then suddenly,

    day trades

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