Anne

Anne, why do you touch that which was promised to me? Do you not remember the oath I took as I read the pages of your heart? "I brother moon, render the key to your diary inoperable. I will now only read what is written in the corner where I tried so hard as a child to be put in. "Anne Sexton," not just a name but a vision. I once had a dream where we both were in my room with no lights or doors, but a half shut window. We were both ripping up the pages of the poem, "The Lonely Masterbator" and we were rewriting a novel.