Lost you to bad luck, poor planning, and a
deficit of courage. How could we have known
that the virus would unfurl poisonous petals
and smother us all. I started choking on
cherry syrup. I dined alone each night.
All of my dreams ended in -itis, and I wished
I could remember your hands, smudged with
graphite. Crimson thread sewn into your
thumbs. Instead I could only remember memories.
Is it really an excuse if it happened to everyone.
I just didn’t remember the oath. Fools and
liars, all coughing into our fists. I wish you
had texted. Can we still grow green. It was
easier to abandon hope. Now, unearthed,
awakening, I’ve started writing down
what-ifs. Started believing half-truths. Felt some
sense of grief for my withered, unwatered
garden. I am still a liar. I wish I texted back.
Jessica Daniel is an Indian-American teenager with a passion for writing and tea.