My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instrument. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.
Anne Sexton, in general, amazes me with her word choice and the way she makes commonplace events and experiences sound extraordinary. Fittingly, when she describes falling in love, she transforms it from ‘falling in love’ to comparing her nerves and herself being to a musical instrument that is playing without stop. I see so much beauty in these words, and reading them makes me remember a few times in my life when I have felt this way. I am transported to a memory that is achingly beautiful and is difficult to reach in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
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