Another Weeping Woman

Pour the unhappiness out
From your too bitter heart,
Which grieving will not sweeten.

Poison grows in this dark.
It is in the water of tears
Its black blooms rise.

The magnificent cause of being,
The imagination, the one reality
In this imagined world

Leaves you
With him for whom no phantasy moves,
And you are pierced by a death.

by Wallace Stevens

Comments (4)

Feel the pain of this poem... Im in my fiffties + this poem connected. Emotional, You deserve a hug from all the lonely people of the world...
its very painful dear... i am feeling it...alone....
felt so alone while i was reading you're poem! well done! got carried away...
Great poem. My life seem to jump back at me from the lines. Only the formatting seem a bit off hand. But I didn't see the format nor the lines nor the words. I saw only my life. Congratulations on a wonderful poem.