After a point she finds a place to salvage the soul, elevating the mind to a space where only the spiritual, the intellectual or the artistic reside- where no one can find, cannot touch, cannot hurt… and while she plays the perfect hostess to the meaningless meaningfuls of her life every day, she’s secretly plotting her death all the time. Perhaps someday when something insignificant should occur, something that didn’t seem to matter at all, she would decide to leave the whistling kettle, unattended…
For she has long hoped that in death, she will find the sweet dignity of life.
For she has long hoped that in death, she will find the sweet dignity of life.
1 comment:
i love it when you're channeling plath. :P
(btw word recog says 'premne! ki irony!)
Post a Comment