On February 4th I wrote :

I always wondered

How it would feel

To be held

As the world falls apart

 

To be held

As raindrops race each other

From cracked cement clouds

And wind bangs on windows

Like a nighttime intruder

And human dust sits on the horizon

Flushing the sky’s hollowed cheeks

And reality is laughing

Because I thought the end of the world

Would be beautiful

But wouldn’t it?

 

To be held

As the bombs kiss the earth

And the fires quench their thirst

And the oceans swell like sick bellies

And the storms wash away the sin

And the buildings crumble into breaths

And the silent voices call for help

And we ignore them

Was this what I envisioned

As the end of the world?

 

But six weeks later

As he held me

Between the fraying edges of our lives

All was calm

 

I never imagined

The end of the world

Would be invisible

 

The virus was creeping

Winking at its victims

Baring no teeth

Bleeding through the pages

of my autolytic imagination

And all those silent voices

They were ours

Shit

I’d forgotten our mortality

 

Did reality smirk?

Or was she too

Covering her mouth

 

But as he held me

On that quiet morning

I left the world in pieces

Thinking instead of

How safety feels

Real and unimaginable

Like a chest

Rising and falling