Love Letter #10 (to Sylvia Plath)

Such a dark place
you swam in-
odor filled kitchen,
not of food,

but death.

Oh! Sylvia,
silent suffering,
with only words
to leave your legacy;
a poignant, sorrowful
testimony;

the story of your life.

Loss of light,
of life

in one strike of a match.

I imagine your hands,
folded like flowers
clinging to peace;

eyes, reaching
for the manuscript,

last words,
left, in his hands,
turn to ashes

in one strike of a match.

~© Lynda Bullerwell, All rights reserved

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