Jilted
By Sylvia Plath
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar
Or the bitter blinking yellow
of an acetic star.
Tonight the caustic wind, love
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon
While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean unripened heart.
Because nothing augments a shitty day like depressing poetry . . .
1 comment:
I am sorry for your sadness. I will pray that you are comforted, and will always have my respect.
-AP
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