You have herpes and did not admit it until I caught the disease from you. I wonder what other secrets you keep and ask myself frequently,”what else have you not told me”. The longer intrigue is hidden, the more damaging the truth is when told. G.T.
…when at last you find someone
to whom you feel you can pour out your soul,
you stop in shock at the words you utter –
they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless
and feeble from being kept
in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
From “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”
by Sylvia Plath