I can’t look away from you, your pale face —

glowing, as sun rays levitate through the glass.

You always stand next to the glass. 

I zoom in for my writing seminar, words paint the air 

I should be looking at the screen but instead, 

I’m looking at you. 

On Tuesday I burn our rice, 

running to the stove, leaving you, I ate cereal 

instead and you were there, while I ate, and you 

didn’t leave me, even when the smoke alarm blared. 

They say quarantine will test the limits,

even of beings who have been together for years. 

It’s been almost 12 months, but still 

I wake up next to you daily. 

I sit next to you during class. 

Each minute my heart grows fonder. 

What is love, I ask

over and over as the days grow longer. 

It’s you, I’ve decided. 

You who remains silent 

rather than righteously telling me off 

when I decide that by doing 21 push-ups, I’ll become jacked. 

You who holds my books, 

my memories. 

You who keeps me warm, 

sheltered from the weather. 

Oh you. It’s always been you.

Oh my beloved, oh my bedroom wall.

April fools. Leah only did seven push-ups. Write to her at [email protected].