i saw it in a movie once.
the best place for a secret –
go deep into the mountains
whisper it into the hollow of a tree
and seal it with mud.
leave it behind you.

why do we do this to ourselves?
harbor these things
and wish to share them?
throwing unspoken desires digitally
anonymously to strangers
in the form of unsent letters
postcard secrets, poems
missed connections, music
and indulging in the idea
that maybe they will see…
or maybe it is the hope.
that maybe you will see
where your secret reached for you?

don’t do this to yourself.
no one is reaching for you.
it is time to let go.
find a hollow to whisper into.
let it out. seal it.
and leave it behind you.

(Non poem related addendums, the movie is In The Mood For Love and it’s fucking beautiful, and I just googled it and can’t believe PostSecret is still running, and every time I sign up for reddit I get sucked into reading Unsent Letters. There is something compelling and beautiful about the things we can and can’t let go of.)