baby may
posted 7 years ago on July 5th with 2,914 notes
I am myself. That is not enough.
The fever trickles and stiffens in my hair.
My ribs show.
What have I eaten?
Lies and smiles.
Surely the sky is not that color,
Surely the grass should be rippling.
Sylvia Plath, “The Jailer” (via ameliacarina)
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