In Covid Times. A poem by Amora Bastion

It’s not wise to bare a gaping wound, in Covid Times.
It’s not wise at all, in fact.
Not that this one was chosen, per se.
Not that this one was self-inflicted.
It was just ill-timed and plausibly life-threatening.

I suppose, if I’m being honest, I could have stitched it up sooner
Had I only known that Covid was coming. Had I only known that was a choice I could make.
I suppose, if I’m being honest, I held unrealistic hope
that antiseptic and anti-social would allow it to heal itself.
It hasn’t.

So, after the betrayal I sit, in Covid times,
Quarantined with the very one who chose her, and told me
that I am an embarrassment for holding boundaries when she is ruthless.
He made it clear that I don’t actually matter to him as much as the dog
Shortly before apologizing to her for having to deal with me at all.

I was mute with disbelief even before we were all ushered to our homes
Waiting for the man I once knew to emerge.
You know, the one who promised to love me.
The one who promised to make my happiness at least a distant consideration.
The One.

And when it became clear that,
no matter how long I stood with my heart hemorrhaging,
he was never going to love me again
I found a place to go that would be mine with bright windows and a cheerful tea pot.
But, in Covid times, liberties are not as they were before and I was not allowed to leave.

So, every gentle day in this ungentle time, I cook for him instead.
I bleach doorknobs and faucets when he returns from work.
Or from wherever.
And I rest my head on his chest at night knowing that he doesn’t love me.
Please don’t judge me for this. In fairness my heart isn’t working quite right with such a gaping wound.

Medical supplies are scarce. You know, in Covid times.
So, with nothing but a rusty needle and the threads of my self-esteem
I will just start sewing to fix what I can
Wondering if my heart will still beat at all
when Covid times have finally passed.

1 Comment

  1. Brave and heartbreaking .

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