by Sylvia Plath
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness wallows in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moonstruck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fire's fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should've loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
For whatever reason, I am in love with this poem right now. Maybe because it's May and I'm always a little depressing in May. Sylvia Plath, notoriously depressed and suicidal, fits the month.
