The rain is always more beautiful in Spring, only today, the world feels seasonless. My chest is full of the taboo and nostalgic memories I was not meant to yearn for again. Lovers that found a way back into the standstill we find ourselves in, immobile and free of agency. Unable to flee their advances.
A virus now more than invisible and nonsingular takes the form of past lovers, repressed regrets, abandoned mistakes, and late night texts reading:
I miss you.”;
taking ahold of the throat, restricting one’s ability to breathe, moving to the chest and finally to the lungs.
Mistakes descend on us as we attempt to flee from a room with no doors.
Only a barred-up window with a view of many pasts.