Is there some lesson on how to be friends?
I think what it means is that central to living
a life that is good, is a life that’s forgiving.
We’re creatures of contact regardless of whether
we kiss or we wound. Still, we must come together.
Though it may spell destruction, we still ask for more—
since it beats staying dry but so lonely on shore.
So we make ourselves open while knowing full well
it’s essentially saying “please, come pierce my shell.”
I think about your thighs, and the warm, moist smell of your skin in the morning, and the tiny eyelash in each corner of your eye that I always notice when you first roll over to look at me. I don’t know why you are better and more beautiful than anybody else. I don’t know why your body is something I can’t stop thinking about, why those little flaws and ridges on your back are lovely to me or why the pale soft bottoms of your New Jersey feet that always wore shoes are more poignant than any other feet, but they are. I thought I would have more time to chart your body, to map its poles, its contours and terrains, its inner regions, both temperate and torrid — a whole topography of skin and muscle and bone. I didn’t tell you, but I imagined a lifetime as your cartographer, years of exploration and discovery that would keep changing the look of my map. It would always need to be redrawn and reconfigured to keep up with you. I’m sure I’ve missed things, or forgotten them, because half the time I’ve been wandering around your body blind drunk with happiness. There are still places I haven’t seen.
—Siri Hustvedt (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)
Even when I forget you
I go on looking for you
I believe I would know you
I keep remembering you
sometimes long ago but then
other times I am sure you
were here a moment before
and the air is still alive
around where you were and I
think then I can recognize
you who are always the same
who pretend to be time but
you are not time and who speak
in the words but you are not
what they say you who are not
lost when I do not find you
~W. S. Merwin
from Present Company
Thanks Dean from The Beauty We Love.
… my words become stained with your love.
You occupy everything, you occupy everything.
—Pablo Neruda, from “So That You Will Hear Me” (V), in Twenty Love Poems and A Song of Despair, translated by W. S. Merwin (via hiddenshores)
Wherever I look you are islands
a constellation of flowers breathing on the sea
deep-forested islands mountainous and fragrant
fires on a bright ocean
at the root one fire
all my life I have wanted to touch your ankle
running down to its shore
I beach myself on you
I see you among still leaves
regard of rock pool
by sun and moon and stars
island waterfalls and their echoes
are your voice your shoulders the whole of you standing
and you turn to me as though your feet were in mist
flowers birds same colors
as your breath
the flowers deliberately smell of you
and the birds make their feathers
not to fly but to
feel of you
Photography Credit Matthew Brandt
(Source heyfiki, via gromae)
We grew strong, in direction. We clarified
in vision, we deepened in our silence and our speaking.
We did not hold still, we moved, we are moving
still - we made, with each other, a moving
like a kind of music; duet, then solo,
solo. We fulfilled something in each other -
I believed in him, he believed in me, then we
grew, and grew, I grieved him, he grieved me,
I completed with him, he completed with me, we
made whole cloth together, we succeeded,
we perfected what lay between him and me,
I did not deceive him, he did not deceive me,
I did not leave him, he did not leave me,
I freed him, and he freed me.
- Sharon Olds, from her book of poems ‘Stag’s Leap’
Kiki Smith: WE see each other (2010)
New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.
—Lao Tzu (via floatingxo)
For so many months
I thought you left me nothing
with which to remember you.
Then I realized —- my own body,
aching for you, is my keepsake.
—Izumi Shikibu (Japanese 974 - 1034)