Everyone has their own Bell Jar, said Sylvia (or did she)
While hers roasted in an oven, incinerating
The Mad Girl’s Love Song, never sung again (I think I made you up inside my head)
If god considered what he made in seven days (does he exist?)
He’d see an ocean of fish trapped in oxygen jars
Drowning and undrowning in unique suffering (No one understands my pain)
It was Pandora’s fault. She held the first jar
That birthed the jars trapping all, without even
The semblance of hope that they can shatter (Your pithos became our prison, we think)
Struggling beneath frosted glass, we fail to see
Other jars and other suffering, but if we simply
Strained beyond our own fragility, maybe this
Veneer will fall away to reveal we were never alone, and never need to be.
(But I am alone in my feelings, surely?)
No not alone, it’s all just evolved a bit wrong right now..
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And this one is brilliant as well. You have done a great job.
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Every poem here, electrifies me. You are a superb wordsmith
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You are way too kind 🙂 Your writing is as good, if not better than mine!
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Well u inspire me I rarely love writers I adore your writing, what a mind!!
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