An ode to Clarissa Dalloway

There’s something cold within me, something dead inside my soul

-I used to think

No. Not dead, just cool quiet, evening sunlight sifting through leaves,

Wind on wood – still supple

Young and pliable without a smile on my lips

Dear Clarissa, thank you for not killing yourself.

Dear Virginia, thank you for leaving us something that would last past the eternity of your death.

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