Covid Love

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You tell me you can smell resentment from a mile away.

That you can hear it in my tone.

But we are more than a mile away.

We are miles.

3,020 miles to be exact.

Resentment.

The word makes me angry.

Like grit between my teeth.

“Why am I so angry?” a thought slips.

“Because you’re shaken,” something deeper chimes.

“Settle,” says the place without words.

I sit.

I settle.

And then..

“I am angry,” I say,

“I am angry that you are there.

And I am here.

But I am more angry

that you have to stay there.

And I have to stay here.”

A thought catches.

I hear it echo in my ears

as it slides back down my throat,

“I am the most angry

that here and there feel like nowhere

because I am not with you.”