Beautiful, you said. You said I was beautiful, and when you said it, I was.
Sandra Cisneros, from Woman at Hollering Creek: Stories; “Never Marry a Mexican,”
Beautiful, you said. You said I was beautiful, and when you said it, I was.
Your moon-shaded eyes and your heaven-breathing hair,
I keep fading away, and the light in my eyes trembles with anguish,
Shall you kiss me tomorrow? Yes, yes, yes. I cannot bear being without you.
“Behave, my Sorrow! let’s have no more scenes.”
— Charles Baudelaire, from “Meditation,” Les Fleurs Du Mal (David R. Godine, 1985)
I am undergoing changes of heart and soul, so I’m trying to find new ways of writing that suit the changed organs.
I have only one wretched life, but it belongs to you;