Another poem book because I have learned how to write not as shitty poems

A Child and A Broken Leash

I feel like a child. 

I suppose that shouldn't be a bad thing or something to be afraid of. It's something many people probably want or do feel like right now, cooped up in their houses and freed of all their adult responsibilities. 

But mine, of course, is metaphorical. 

We don't leave children alone for too long and consistently supervise them so they don't do anything stupid. That's a simple, easy-to-understand fact. But here I am, alone with all of my thoughts. It's a dangerous thing- a stupid thing- to leave me alone with my thoughts. They roam on a broken leash that I pathetically tug on as if I can control them and pull them back. But amidst my boredom and bare popcorn textured ceiling, they are all I have. So I just sit, with the handle wrapped in my fingertips, and watch them run in circles. 

My thoughts hold a magnet and you have the other one that keeps tug, tug, tugging me towards you. I can't flip it: make us detract and push each other away with a strong invisible force. I was the one who childishly thought that I had put a desk, a classroom, a whole universe between us. Yet because of an invisible, magnetic force, the world keeps on spinning and no one can stop that. I can't stop that and the way my thoughts violently pull me towards you and make my finger hover over the chat and text you. 

You're probably asking what are you trying to say? How does this relate at all to quarantine. While it pains me to admit it, to a paper where I can't even bare your name, to people who don't even know me, all I can think about all these weeks is you. That sounds adorable, doesn't it? If only, if only, if only, it was because I loved you or I had some sappy crush. But I don't. I've been thinking of reasons to text you, some not for myself, yet hesitated. Because the last text that taunts me reads: Ru mad at me. 

I laugh at it now because you couldn't even put a space between the R and U or spell them out fully or add some punctuation to make it seem like you cared. This text replaces another one that had hurt me much more and I suppose that'd be good if it didn't make me feel guilty. 

I am at home. Free from your eyes. And the magnetic force is weaker now that we aren't sitting in the same room. I can't do anything stupid like forgive you although I've been planning to hear you out in a couple months. I don't know how much time is too much. I don't know how much time is too little. All I know is that I'm trapped in my house for a couple more months, reading stories that'll remind me of you, where I'll tap on your contact and begin a text I'll never send. I know that I don't think you're a horrible person and that I'll never will even after what you did to me. 

I know that all of this will be over soon, and life will return back to normal, but what I don't know yet is if I want to continue the normal I had built up these past few months with you. 

There's a lot of "I don't know's" today. As if we're trapped in an endless spiral of not knowing anything or learning something then throwing it away. It's all so claustrophobic and the news won't shut up about the pandemic. Even when I go outside I feel so trapped. It feels like the world is ending, ever so slowly, and I feel like I'm preparing for the last months of my life. But I'm not, and I know that, so I'll keep throwing myself into stories, making their reality my own and only then will I feel safe, only then will I feel like I'm breathing fresh air. 

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#writetogether3

Sorry if this isn't exactly what the prompt says.