You don’t like it when I mention the breakup;

My words pop the bubble

you’ve formed around yourself

– like a comfort blanket.

No one’s broken up during a global pandemic before;

there are no hard-and-fast rules

(not that we were subscribing to rules,

but some guidance might be nice).

We’ve been apart for four weeks,

by now it would be getting easier

– if times were ordinary.

But these are not ordinary times.

Occasionally, I feel the distance makes it easier;

this big wedge, forced between us

to sever our connection.

Other times, I feel it’s come too soon.

How will we find ourselves

on similar pages when we’re chapters apart?

Will you stop treating my words

like needles popping your balloon?

Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash