this infection

What, then, is the infection that comes forth?
Is it the swollen throat, the tightening
of the chest?

It is the shriek when I try to breathe.
It is the pulse that quickens when you leave.

I have had it for three weeks. Some disease has its
hold on me. Something has broke in my throat.
I croak when I speak, I drink honey with tea,
but when I drink it, I choke and I spill it on me.

You came with the snow and it
came when you left. It was the space between us,
so close, that chose to infect. I couldn't see straight
and when I left the car and walked to my
door, I was flushed with a heat that I thought you had
shared with me.

You went away, but the fever remained.
The illness quickens, I rise with it too.
I will never be good as new.