Poetry Rec: She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
i made liking Sylvia Plath into a personality
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
“my child asked me if I knew who I was. And I said, yes, I am the speed at which particles collide.”
All of a Sudden
I wish I could say I was the kind of child
who watched the moon from her window