4.33 in the morning and brain finally turned off. "i had forgotten that this morning was this morning". maybe some reading before bed would be a good idea.
i don't remember since when i've started to like poems. maybe that time i found out my sister wrote poems. maybe that time i stayed awake in class and learnt about duffy and "disgrace". the flow of the rhythm. the onomatopoeic nature of words. the raw emotions of the poet. almost too electrical and intangible for me to touch and feel. tonight i read this. i want to feel, desperately grasping onto that last strand of romanticism in me that is not washed away by the exhaustion and frustration.
"we have both learnt the art of capture.
maybe we are learning the art of embracing.
maybe we are learning the art of letting go." - sarah kay
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