"For a week now our bodies have whispered
together, telling each other secrets
you and I would keep. Their language,
harder and more tender than this, wakes
us suddenly in the half dawn, tangled
dragons on their map. They have a plan.

We are stranded travelers who plan
to ditch our bags and walk. The hill wind whispers
danger and rain. We are going different ways. That tangled
thornbush is where the road forks. The secrets
we told on the station bench to keep awake
were lies. I suspect from your choice of language

that you are not speaking your native language.
You will not know about the city plan
tattooed behind my knee. But the skin wakes
up in humming networks, audibly whispers
over the dead wind. Everybody’s secrets
jam the wires. Syllables get tangled

with bus tickets and matchbooks. You tangled
my hair in your fingers and language
split like a black fig. I suck the secrets
off your skin. This isn’t in the plan,
the subcutaneous transmitter whispers.
Be circumspect. What sort of person wakes

up twice in a wrecked car? And we wake
in wary seconds of each other, tangled
damply together. Your cock whispers
inside my thigh that there is language
without memory. Your fingers plan
wet symphonies in my garrulous secret

places. There is nothing secret
in people crying at weddings and singing at wakes;
and when you pack a duffel bag and plan
on the gratuitous, you will still tangle
purpose and habit, more baggage, more language.
It is not accidental what they whisper.

Our bodies whispered under the sheet. Their secret
language will not elude us when we wake
into the tangled light without a plan."

Marilyn Hacker

(Source: lessadventurous, via 5000letters)

"Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open."

Natalie Goldberg

"She is not mine. I don’t think she could ever be anyone’s. She doesn’t want to be owned. That’s what I love most about her."

letters my grandpa wrote about my grandmother

"I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don’t know why, some people fill the gaps but other people emphasize my loneliness."

Anais Nin

"Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place."

Zora Neale Hurston

(via theunwittymiss)

"A woman laughing is a woman conquered."


A Guide on How to Forget

Note: This is a gradual process but in the end, after you’ve worked it out, the pain of going through each stage is worth it. You’re going to forget one memory each day but let’s stick to the important memories that will constantly remind you of him. 

  1. Forget his smell. The sweet scent of his deodorant after he takes a bath, and the smell of sweat against his skin after playing under the sun. Forget how you always try to find his smell wherever you are when you’re not with him, trying to find a person with the exact same smell. Forget that you never find that person. Forget that his smell will be always peculiar.
  2. Forget the warmth of his touch. Forget the way he holds you at the small of your back, and how that gentle touch sends chills up your spine, making you feel dazed. Forget the way his fingers find your fingers, intertwining them with yours, fitting them perfectly. Forget the squeezes, the hugs. Forget the way he strokes your cheeks, and the way you put your head on his shoulders.
  3. Forget his voice. His raspy voice when he wakes up so early in the morning, his throaty laughter whenever you say something silly, his deep voice when you’re talking about something serious. Forget how even its sound makes you smile. Forget how you always look up to calling him, or him calling you, just to hear him speak. Forget, even, the way he talks. Forget his accent that you so dearly loved. 
  4. Forget his birthday. Forget where you always go. Forget the park, where you basked in the sun while eating homemade sandwiches, and drinking cold coffee. Forget the bookstore, where he bought your favorite books. Forget the way the sun rose over your rooftop while the two of you waited for it. Forget the places you’ve been to. Forget the little things you did.
  5. Then, forget his face. Forget the way he smiles, and the way he crinkles his nose when he’s trying to be funny. Forget the jawline, which you loved to kiss. Forget the tiny dimple in his left cheek. Forget his ears, the way they’re curled perfectly. Forget his forehead. Forget his messy, brown hair. Lastly, forget his eyes. Forget his beautiful blue eyes, how it looks like the ocean when he’s beginning to cry, how it sparkles just like the stars in the night sky, how it makes you smile for no reason. Forget his eyes, and you will forget the boy. 

This is not easy. You will hurt every time you try to forget each memory. But after forgetting all of those, you will also forget that you loved him. And that memory — the memory of loving him — is the only important memory that you have to throw away but you will never bury that unless you start digging the grave where you wanted it buried. Who said forgetting is easy? And whoever said loving is easier?