At the temple there is a poem called “Loss” carved into the stone.
It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out.
You cannot read loss, only feel it.
Memoirs of a Geisha // Arthur Golden
At the temple there is a poem called “Loss” carved into the stone.
It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out.
You cannot read loss, only feel it.
Memoirs of a Geisha // Arthur Golden
Every mouth you’ve ever kissed
was just practice
all the bodies you’ve ever undressed
and ploughed in to
were preparing you for me.
I don’t mind tasting them in the
memory of your mouth
they were a long hall way
a door half open
a single suit case still on the conveyor belt
was it a long journey?
Did it take you long to find me?
You’re here now,
welcome home.
Welcome Home // Warsan Shire