And I think you’ll regret it, maybe in a few weeks, a few months or a few years. But one day you’ll see me and just the sight of me will make you miss me. And in that moment you’ll remember how beautiful and vibrant I am. And you’ll regret leaving me. You’ll miss the cherry suckers I ate and the way I could never miss a sunset. You’ll miss how my hands held tight and my mouth curved into a smile. You’ll miss the sound of my laugh and the light in my eyes. You will have thought that light would be gone. Taken by what you put me through. But it will be brighter than ever no thanks to you. I will be radiant.
You’ll miss me, you’ll regret this, but it will be too late
For I have moved on
The kind of radiance that comes over you when I look at you dressing or shaving or reading and you are suddenly more than the daily self we must live with and love, that fleeting celestial self which shines out with the whimsical timing of angels.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath