You wake in the middle of the night sometimes to go cry in the bathroom and you think I don’t hear it but I do. I can’t apologize enough for all of those things the men who came before me did to you. I wish I could promise that it will be different this time, but it won’t. I will leave you, too.
[In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.]
She would like some one to speak to her,
And she is almost afraid that I
will commit that indiscretion
—Ezra Pound, from “The Garden” (via the-final-sentence)