one. you've ruined all my songs

harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking anyway. this collection shall be under the tutelage of sylvia plath's poems, and the bell jar and her lovely tortured head, in which i see something quite like mine. i hope it is enough in the end.

do tell me if you've seen them.

with love
eleanor