There is this funny thing that happens when a heartbreak-poet heals

She forgets how to put words together
She forgets what the 3 a.m wind feels like
and she forgets poetry . slowly .

And she knows how it feels like
It feels like being able to breathe again after an asthma attack
It feels like waking up to the sunlight when the last thing you remember was the midnight moonlight gentle against your window

She just could not write it down.
Because words do not work like colours
you can never just throw them in

She takes time, somedays.
Trying to recall that heartbreak,
Trying to make sense of what art it had
And why it was taken away when it left

It is very ironic when a heartbreak-poet heals
She falls soundly asleep, wishing,
she is able to wait for the 3 a.m wind,
wishing,
she remembers what poetry was like - how it feels.