Sylvia Plath - Poetry's Lioness

forgettingstockwell asked: I had had to park the car on Calvert Street and walk, the forward crying of two children punctuating a Winter whiter than the shade by which you measured your sanity. In the silence as I saw 'our' street - I retained the 'nous' around my neck - I visioned a thousand collisions and a nothingness heavier than the world around me. I turned the path and stared at the future as if it were already hindsight, and realised you had taken half of it.