{close your eyes} For there are no words to title…

For my head is blank…white and cool…the way they say her hands lie when the pulse goes slowly…like my breathing…but I am told that is normal.

So I was wondering why you called me “love”

I have been writing very much as of late…To be sure that my unabridged journals will exist…Pretending to be sisters with Sylvia Plath…but I am not blonde, nor enraged with the house that lost its master to his mistress…

Did you know that when you touch a mirror you can still see your fingertips…I think that maybe the glass is a special kind…

Go calm into this night…


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Filed under -Letters to Louise-, mental

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