I love you. That's never going to change. But holy shit, do you drive me crazy!

Plath: Poems - Diane Wood Middlebrook, Sylvia Plath

I am inhabited by a cry.

nightly it flaps out

looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

 

i am terrified by this dark thing

That sleeps in me;

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

 

clouds pass and disperse.

Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?

Is it for such I agitate my heart?

 

 

 

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