You kissed the tears from my cheeks
Your own falling in time with mine;
Our hearts pulling, heavy and weeping.

I told you my story.
The storm and the eye in the center.

Quit selling your soul to the temporary.

On this day in 1963, Sylvia Plath, a beautiful woman and well known poet, committed suicide in her apartment. A rare recording of her reading her poem The Disquieting Muses was released.
https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/10/27/sylvia-plath-reads-the-disquieting-muses-bbc/

tired of the same track on replay
in blown out speakers pulsing
electric signals calling and commanding
and one motion after the other-
I can't wait for a short in the signal
you'd think all the rain would've done the job
but the song still plays, still plays.

I always feel like I have a losing hand
but this time I'm not sure because
I could just as well be rolling the dice alone
either way, I'm not winning anything.

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore.

You don't get to hurt me and then judge the way I respond.