every word
a live wire,
my veins
hot,
fierce and ready to
curl
and burn,
turn to ash
like a paper flower
set on fire.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Posted by jess at Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
"The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air...I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am." ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar,
every word
a live wire,
my veins
hot,
fierce and ready to
curl
and burn,
turn to ash
like a paper flower
set on fire.
Posted by jess at Tuesday, June 09, 2009
0 comments:
Post a Comment