Wrote this after I watched the movie, "Sylvia", made last year. Victoria Lucas is Plath's pseudonym used in The Bell Jar, a novel that I'm hoping to lay my hands after my term exams.
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words; her only solace
under night-bulbs and candles with
flames frail; of weaker shimmer than
dimmed eyes that would not go
out with the moon that would crash
into those poems, into the dearth of
mirth that sends you spiralling down
from cinnamon warmth love
down to the box that held no exit
-only an opening,
lay inside a broken fulcrum,
the promise of
blackness and silence.
opened her mouth and winds wafted
hollow despair stenches from
already stolen, when he
filled another with bloodlust desire,
ushering sanity into its mire.
her smile laid intact, she asked for candles
when the flames blew out.
did her face too,
when she asked for help and
received the welcome of
stepping into the box,
the soundless knell
plunged not twice, once; -
but for good.
the lids sealed, both flesh, wooden
ashened to nothingness,
like a requiem sung by fire,
and quenched by death.