emily dickinson - bits and pieces.

---

this is my letter to the world

that never wrote to me

---

if you were coming in the fall,

i'd brush the summer by

with half a smile and half a spurn,

as housewives do a fly.

if i could see you in a year,

i'd wind the months in balls,

and put them each in separate drawers,

until their time befalls.

if only centuries delayed,

i'd count them on my hand,

subtracting till my fingers dropped

into Van Diemen's land. 

if certain, when this life was out,

that yours and mine would be,

i'd toss it yonder like a rind,

and taste eternity.

but now, all ignorant of the length 

of time's uncertain wing,

it goads me like the goblin bee,

that will not state its sting.

---

heart, we will forget him!

you and i, tonight!

you may forget the warmth he gave,

i will forget the light.

when you have done, pray tell me,

that i my thoughts may dim;

haste! lest while you're lagging.

i may remember him. 

---

(her scattered style and short, choppy thoughts sound like they could be mine. i guess i relate to the way she thinks? maybe it's just the fact that she was a woman. i think she expresses things all of us feel at some point or another.)