An understanding of a masked honesty.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something everyday. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

nest-to-last, of three beloved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

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Professor: Well what do you think?
Maggie: Good.
Professor: Unacceptable answer. What's the poem about?
Maggie: I don't know.
Professor: Yes, you do. What's it about?
Maggie: Losing?
Professor: What?
Maggie: Love?
Professor: Ah. And how about that? Is the love lost already? Is Bishop writing about it as a possibility, a probability? What?
Maggie: Well... in the beginning she's talking about... losing real things, like keys. And then she... she gets, like... she lost a continent.
Professor: She's getting grandiose.
Maggie: Yeah. And the way she says it is like... like it doesn't matter.
Professor: Ah. Her tone... would you call it detached?
Maggie: I think she wants to sound detached. You know, she wants to... sound... like it doesn't matter... 'cause she knows, deep down... how bad it's gonna feel to lose.
Professor: Lose what? Or whom? Is it a lover?
Maggie: No. It's a friend.

Currently listening to...

i'll light the sun and the darkness will turn into lightnow i see the world for the first time

charmed smiles

It’s that particular morning of one of those simple, uncomplicated beautiful mornings when you stumble upon that certain charmed life that you have always hoped for yourself since your fairytale years…

The bed has never been too comfy, the morning sunlight has never been any brighter, and the coffee has never been better. And you have never felt more radiant than today, the very moment you see him smile at you, kiss you on the tip of your nose and whispers, “good morning, I love you…”

Those quiet moments you spend in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, both smiling at each other and smiling to yourselves at the same time. And you start to wonder what exactly is on his mind, and you start thinking to yourself: “God, I love this man…” And while you’re head is slightly bent down as you’re busy slicing the bread, he tilts your chin with the tip of his finger, lightly kisses your lips and whispers yet again, “I love you.”

Now you know just what exactly is on his mind. And then again, it’s not as if there’s no other way of telling, huh? You just keep smiling quietly, to yourself and back at him. You knew, you know, and you’ve always known. And for once, you’re peaceful, calmed and serene. There is absolutely no doubt about it. And you’re sure that he knows of the exact same thing.