It is...

It is dark. 

There is only a small sliver of light coming from beneath the closed door from the hall outside.

It is quiet. 

There is only the noise of the fan whirring and slicing the air. And me typing this to you. 

It is peaceful.

There is only the restlessness inside me to somehow tell you everything I am feeling.

It is heavy.

There is only the lightness in my head as I go high on the rush of expressing this.  

It is slow. 

There is only my heart that is beating rapidly at the thought of you reading this.

It is cold. 

There is only the heat and suffocation everyone is facing and I shiver as I think of you. 

It is doubtful. 

There is only the certainty that you and I met.  

It is now. 

There is only the hope of the future. Of a moment. With you.