//JILTED// My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, My tears like vinegar, Or the bitter blinking yellow, Of an acetic star, Tonight the caustic wind, love, Gossips late and soon, And I wear the wry-faced pucker of The sour lemon moon. While like an early summer plum, Puny, green and tart, Droops upon its wizened stem My lean, unripened heart. - PLATH