bad allergies

The Elizabethans had a philosophy

when you fell in love you became ill.

When you were around, I had so many symptoms.

Heart palpitations, aches, loss of appetite,

feverish dances between hot and cold, and so many others.

But you always looked completely well.

I suppose this illness wasn’t contagious.

I knew then that my feelings were never going to be reciprocated.

So we sat down one last time

not even something as little as a cough escaped you.

You left and your silence created a quarantine.

Now that you’re gone

I’m not ill anymore

Now that illness has become allergies

Activated by the mention of a name

Or a picture on a phone

Or the familiar places we used to go

But i’m not sick anymore