Arrow for precision
strike once into a fool so blue
wind chimes break all the silence left in you
you're dangling now, barely even breathing now,
no life left to fight for, but you notice the clouds
start to shine, and angels single you out
air rushing inside you, wind, cold and white
Is it a dream, or might I finally know now?
now I just might.
do I look like summer to you?
do I look like something to prove?
I don’t look like summer anymore
I fell,
you score
-s’s.
-s's.
That is my problem
I cannot burn like you do
If I were to alight
I would roar as a star across space and time
Bending light and burning bright
Sending ripples through time
Devouring all in sight
Vigilanti Inkheart
descend into madness, now,
nothings going to change, but who wants to stay the same
flame, I'll feel your glow,
but you're insane
touch me, little flame
maybe I'll know
Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Aurelia Plath written c. August 1951
when you're about to say something to me, I know while you're mustering up all of your words, I know Before you lean in to tell me a secret, you glow I can tell when you want to be by my side, you glisten each time, I know
-s's.
still, after 7 years of life has passed,
all the childlike ache I used to know rots lonely in my mind,
unrecognizable dark
unbearable stench
-s's.
You’re not the origin
you’re addicted to leaving
and the old souls hold close their
broken things; clear glass,
porcelain and knickknacks
-s's.