ISOLATION
Updated: Dec 31, 2020

is the breathless cry of fear
in an empty room. it digs into the soles of my feet
like gravel, hard and sharp and out of place. i breathe
ragged and unsure. i clutch my phone like a lifeline, waiting for a notification,
watching the battery as it ticks down until with a splutter and a whine
it dies.
my charger lies abandoned beside me. i put my phone down. i
consign myself to this thick and unspeakable loneliness, consign myself to
reliving the same day over and over again. nothing ever happens anymore.
it is all predictable, the same numbers
and letters and words printed across the backs of my eyelids in neon colors,
the size of a headline, demanding attention that i no longer
know how to give. instead i commit myself to missing all the things
that i used to keep tucked neatly behind my teeth. unsaid
words are eroded into sand
in my mouth. by the time i think to splay my fingers in the shape of a star
against the window, perhaps they will have hardened
into pearls. i remember how to breathe
to live like life will end, with all the fanfare of a fabric mask,
the finality of a closed door.