And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
Sylvia PlathAnd the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness
Sylvia PlathI am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart? I am incapable of more knowledge. What is this, this face So murderous in its strangle of branches? - Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.
Sylvia Plath