"You were my world,
Until you found
— An almost haiku for an almost us (via bluegirls)
(Source: sh-ocking, via anyasquotes)
"I think about what is fact. That babies,
when they’re born, leave an imprint of its spine
on their mothers, that there are machines
that can read these grooves like rings on a tree.
We count them, or we don’t, because we forget.
We forget our women, their quiet strength.
We forget what we have done to them in order
to be here now. There is no noise here,
in the place where the world begins,
where our women hold whole oceans in their bellies
like whales, their skin shiny and smooth,
mouths tilted open, lips painted to suit their moods.
Our women. Half of your DNA is first created
in the body of your grandmother, so yes,
you are a woman, you are part of a long line
of women that you will never meet,
have them running crazy thick in your veins.
Our women kiss other women in college
as experiments and then come back home
and marry their high school sweethearts.
Some elope with men who become
cruel over the years, men who flay them open
and burrow deep beneath slats of rib.
Men who claim to love them so much they want
to wear them like a second skin, clog their throats,
tear out lung, harpoon their brains.
It is these women that must learn how to untie, undo,
unravel the love knots that it takes years to make.
We forget what we have done to them,
to our women who stay up all night, watching,
their hands placed over their hollow wombs,
counting the rings, another year, waiting for us
to make the long journey home."
— Kristina Haynes, “Our Women” (via fleurishes)