June 2010
16 posts
achy:
I am exhausted, I am exhausted —-
Pillar of white in a blackout of knives.
I am the magician’s girl who does not flinch.
The villagers are untying their disguises, they are shaking hands.
Whose is that long white box in the grove, what have they accomplished, why am I cold.from The Bee Meeting, Sylvia Plath
(via milktrees)
“If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression of something beautiful, but annihilating.”
—Sylvia Plath (the rival) (via crashinglybeautiful) (via directactioniswitchcraft, colourmegreenwich)
