Ariel: The Restored Edition

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.

You leave the same impression

Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.

After all, I am alive only by accident.

I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.

And I, love, am a pathological liar

We should meet in another life, we should meet in air,

Me and you

Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?

Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I am terrified by this dark thing

That sleeps in me;

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

I am inhabited by a cry.

Nightly it flaps out

Looking, with its hooks, for something to love

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets

Love is a shadow.

How you lie and cry after it