Unfinished Love

Suddenly life seems so fragile, ephemeral.
It can end prematurely, accidentally, unexpectedly
by a smallest RNA with a protein coat 
gaudy with red dots sticking out.
I've never thought about death before,
something too far away to be of significance.
Now I think about it, I feel fine.
I can accept death better than declining health
and sickness--Oh, the sickness due to coronavirus.
When will this go away?
But something is harder to accept.
Our unfinished love.
There's no closure, no ending.
Something once promising, but no conclusion. 
I regret about it, deeply.
If life is not so transitory, 
I won't feel so regretful. 
Death creates a new logic for life.
Even the thought of death, crazy as it seems,
redefines our love.

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