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Literature Text
the smell of the kitchen floor.
six days ago you left a note,
and promised the world you would die.
your eyes are destiny,
i can see the patterns aligning
in the stars. there is
consecration in the grief.
coins flashing last-day sighs,
your lips pink and pink
against chalky exhaustion.
your mind was truth.
you left textures in the darkness
and the candle flames. linoleum and dried milk
and gasoline. beautiful, you thought.
six days ago you left a note,
and promised the world you would die.
your eyes are destiny,
i can see the patterns aligning
in the stars. there is
consecration in the grief.
coins flashing last-day sighs,
your lips pink and pink
against chalky exhaustion.
your mind was truth.
you left textures in the darkness
and the candle flames. linoleum and dried milk
and gasoline. beautiful, you thought.
Literature
I'm No Sylvia Plath
Her heart's made of steel
Mine's made of plaster
With so much pressure
I'm deteriorating faster
It's ending now
It's ending badly
I'm crying for help
I'm screaming madly
But no one listens
To my calls
No one stops
Or cares at all
I'm on the floor
Broken bits of plaster
I'm certain I'm dying
I just wish it were faster
Literature
Dear Sylvia,
Dear Sylvia,
I pray this letter
finds you in time
to forestall the inevitable.
If only for a moment.
That before the first bite
of your last supper
and breath
you can read these words
and know. Know
before your eyelids
flutter closed
the last time
Literature
the dreamer.
quietly.
quietly.
be careful.
that floor board creaks.
that stair groans.
that table wobbles and that door scratches along the floor.
quiet.
your footsteps make to many vibrations.
stop.
don't move.
I can still hear you.
your diaphragm is moving.
your breaths are the sound of waves hitting the shore.
your heart beats are as loud as thunder claps.
quiet.
don't exist.
don't be.
disappear.
I can sense your presence.
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thanks to my beloved english lit teacher emily, i have discovered sylvia plath
her work is amazing
she was very sad though
she committed suicide at the age of thirty by turning on the gas and sticking her head in the stove. look her up on google
a birthday present is an amazing poem
her work is amazing
she was very sad though
she committed suicide at the age of thirty by turning on the gas and sticking her head in the stove. look her up on google
a birthday present is an amazing poem
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