There are no words.

There is just dread.

I’m looking forward to a time
when every time
I go outside
I’m not inclined
to risk assess
my every move
and ponder through
the circumstance
and chances that
the plans I’ve made
have just betrayed
the safety we
so carefully
have practiced since
the day this all
began

I’m tired and

I know I’m not
the only one
who can’t have fun
without the shrill
and constant trill
of stark what-ifs
a constant drip
of if we’re sick
how will we fair
and will it wear
our bodies down
and will we drown
within ourselves
and go through hell
or fight it well
and find ourselves
relieved?

But I can’t breathe
and I can’t see
how this will end
or even when
I’ll go outside
without a care

I hope like hell
we’re getting there

A haze
rising up
off the blacktop

A laugh
ringing out
like a gunshot

The night
folding in
like a last hug

The fire
burning out
like a lost love

When we said
the same thing
at the same time
that time
I think you remembered
what it’s like to forget

It’s okay
that you were late
to your own party and

it’s okay
that we waited
for two whole hours and

it’s okay
you decided
to walk back out the door

What’s not okay
is that I expected
anything more