This piece is featured in Issue No. 1 Love in the Time of Corona


Existing \\ Queerantine


involuntarily losing touch with humanity
is strange
sometimes I lay with both my hands intertwined
sometimes I close my eyes and reminisce the scent of her hair
weed doesn’t hit the same anymore
unless I dim the lights with the night sky,
cascading into my bedroom
the only thing that brings me joy is food
sitting on my study eating meals that remind me of home
so grateful for taste buds
reading feels like a task
screens are my only apocalyptic companions
who would’ve thought,
real life would turn into a melancholic black mirror episode in slo-mo
still I dream of hugging trees and holding her close
of human sounds that fill your ears
as soon as you enter a cafe
never thought I’d miss existing


Intimacy in the age of quarantine
Has become an oxymoron
Yet we carry on,
With work-out sessions on zoom
Binge watching shows on prime
Together yet so far apart,
Sometimes I hold on to her energy-
It’s filled with love
Sometimes I hold on to her gaze
Our eyes locked, filled with lust
Sometimes I tell her how I’d grab her-
If she were with me and she says
“baby I’m right here”
some days I actually believe her,

because even though I love solitude
in an alternate universe,
we’re snuggling on the couch
with our doggo and plant babies by our side
content to simply be at arm’s length of each other
spending days surfing in the living room
painting each other’s canvas bodies till dusk
then cooking naked in the kitchen
feeding her like my life depended on it
and kissing each other’s pandemic anxieties away
oh what an amazing queerantine it would be then!


Nhylar is a 24 year QPOC who currently resides in Toronto. She uses poetry as a creative outlet for her existential rage. She writes about queer representation, living away from home, intimacy and anything that intrigues her. Instagram: @shutupitdoesntmatter