Love in the Time of Pandemic
I want to inhale you, smell your hair, rub my cheek against yours, hold you close and dance in the moonlight
I want to talk to you, tell you everything: the important stuff, the trivial stuff, the mind-blowing stuff, the boring stuff
I want to hold your hand, sit in silence, sip from the same glass, eat from the same plate, sleep in the same bed
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.