sylvia, my dear;



“would it be too childish

of me to say: i want?

but i do want: theatre,

light, color, paintings,

wine and wonder…”

                      -sylvia plath, the unabridged journals of sylvia plath.



(oh s-plath, i really do wish you were still alive. i feel as if you and i would be good friends; throwing our undergarments off the roof of new york city apartment buildings, you’d let me read your poems that you wrote about your horrible husband. and i have to admit, you are kind of my author girl crush, as weird as that sounds.)


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