Plath Reloaded

I'm haunted by the fey power of Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song" today. Since I have previously featured that piece here, I won't quote it again in full. I find these lines tolling in my head:

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)