I never wanted to be the kind of poet that writes about being sad- or about being unlucky in love. I never wanted to be the kind of artist who helped to romanticise the things that are difficult enough, on their own, to escape. 

Oh, the magic I used to chase only to be able to put in down on paper later. Glowing oceans and turbulent seas, healthy friendships and self love. Those where the things I sought too romanticise. 

But now the magic has run out and all that’s left to do is keep writing.