Modern Leper.

I turn over to see their face, just stirring

My curtains are casting golden shadows on their face

They groggily awake and kiss my forehead

I run my hand over their head, feeling their hair

We bury our faces into each other

And there is an unspoken, shared understanding that

This is the sort of moment you prolong

I remember the time I pretended I was a sunflower. I remember when I hiked to find a waterfall. Now I rot and wait and cry and welcome immobilization like a dear friend. 

Is this it now? Because my diagnosis feels like detainment - imprisoned by a part of my biology and sentenced to a life of more paid maintenance. I can’t picture much worse than a mind that wants to love that is held back by itself. 

Silly, I know

You are warm inside and out