I want to be Sylvia Plath, words
slipping from my mouth in hopeless
abandon, aware of the mania,
craving the solitude of my mind.
I want an emerald pool filled
with money, so that my fingertips
are stained jealous jade, my nose
inhaling the scent of luxury.
I want a house, hidden in pines
and forest, a bright springtime
racing across the lawn, flowers
in bloom, and the scent of spruce.
I want a diamond engagement ring,
and the boy who will give it to me,
his eyes a cool, calm green,
two eclipses of satisfying luck.
I want what I can’t have,
and that’s what makes me coil
with envy, a serpent slithering,
just a soul withering in the soil.
Somewhere in the United States (2016)
Hello, my dear readers. This poem was written for creative writing class in December 2018. The poem is meant to cut…
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