Sticks and Stones

Quarantine

Somehow I always write about you
Your hair, your eyes, your smile,
But not this time, not again

As much as quarantine is telling me that I should call you ,
There's this sense of dread when I think of talking with you,
My heart yearns for you
But I know better

Here I sit, thinking of you
In this quarantine, it's all I think of;
Oh, how I'd love to here your voice again,
to feel your skin

During this quarantine I will not bother,
why should I?
You never did.