Plague

Im sitting in my house and weighing the options.

If I go out, I may get sick, but I have a death wish anyway so bring it on.

If I stay in this house any longer I am going to turn into Jack Nicholson.

I want to see my boy,

curl up in the backseat in his arms and match my breath to his.

Honestly?

I don't care if I die,

I just want to see the person I love.

Does that sound dramatic?

I know he feels the same.

Ugh.

The timing of this virus is absolute shit.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741