Content warning: covid-19, isolation, swearing
A poem by Eli Smith
You come to me in packets
Of bittersweet bytes
A numbing swig of familiarity
Feeding on the remnants of an embrace
There are no days to count
What are days anyway?
Lost, dazed and yearning the warmth of skin upon skin.
Eye gaze in eye.
Voice, crisp and clear.
Not crushed and scraping against the membranes of my ears.
Yet I live.
I’ve lived through more than this.
Trod through this shit when half of the world hadn’t heard of it.
Isolation was always the narration of my existence.
This is more home than the brick walls of my house has been.
Bound til you prised this limpet from his rock.
Now I’m writhing in the sinking sands.
Get up and stand, good God.
Stand by until the furrows of fingertips are united
Stand for love.
Last for love.
Live for love.
Eli Smith is a writer and poet and one of the organisers of Leeds LGBT+ Literature Festival.