Love, Love, I Have Hung Our Cave

Backward We Traveled To Reclaim The Day Before We Fell, Like Icarus, Undone; All We Find Are Altars In Decay And Profane Words Scrawled Black Across The Sun.

I Didn't Know What I Was Doing In New York.

Perhaps, Perhaps This Would Be The One To Pull Me Out Of My Plunge.

But I Wasn't Sure. I Wasn't Sure At All. How Did I Know That Someday―at College, In Europe, Somewhere, Anywhere―the Bell Jar, With Its Stifling Distortions, Wouldn't Descend Again?

Please, I Want So Badly For The Good Things To Happen.