The silence
when the sun sets
and you know winter has arrived.
The howls of a stray dog
ripples the silhouette, disturbing the trance
we stare across the abyss,
the world has failed us both,
in degrees and extents.
Until yesterday become tomorrow,
look at me, as slyly as you can.
Let your eyes fall upon the nude
words of a recluse
and melt.
Befitting persuasion
into words, like lovemaking-
the kind that makes you gasp,
makes you sink your head, your soul
deep within.
In the pages of my notebook,
into words, like lovemaking-
the kind that makes you gasp,
makes you sink your head, your soul
deep within.
In the pages of my notebook,
you shall remain, like a blot of ink-
an incomplete thought, or an inspiration
to yet another
someone, somebody I once knew.
To anybody who understands the connection, this is my tribute to Slyvia Plath. I love her. I live her. |