Here, 
across the country,
among the five
I have known forever,
enclosed in 
sixteen hundred 
square feet.
A bedroom split
in half like it always
has, only now
it’s reverted 
back to an
occupied space of two.
Surrounded 
by makeshift desks and
new bookcases—  
blue lights flashing,
distracting
in the living room.
Endless news
ignored while
immersing in 
faraway worlds
that seem more real
than today.
Card games and
homework in bed and
toast phases and 
crying 
in the bathroom.
Only you:
unseen and everywhere
stealing 
lives and memories.
Procrastinating 
is normally the devil
until you showed up.
You closed happiness
for who knows
how long.
Nametags on dorm room
doors I didn’t keep
and friends I didn’t hug
tight enough,
gone.
But,
you can’t last forever.
You can’t keep me
down and wallowing.
You can’t keep me
from one thing—
hope. 
--Meagan