Sometimes, you sweep me off my feet. I mean, literally. I wish I knew how to stand on my own without trembling like a leaf betwixt your grip. As you tighten your hug I wonder why I let you build a cocoon inside of me. My eyes dart from across cozy corners at a cafe and the sidelines where I’ve found an abode. My life isn’t four walls but four corners of the big room. The greys help me blend perfectly with the walls so no one can yield what lies beneath. Like a constant reminder you stay in the back of my head, in the sweat across my palms and the shivers down my spine. You’re in my stutter and the shutter I hide behind. You’re the heartless human trampling upon my veins like you would on dead leaves that lie naked every autumn.
You’re the antagonist in the story of a girl who bleeds poetry in a desolate corner of some cafe and sips her coffee in between,
Smacking her lips as isolation leaks down her city.
Dear anxiety, you’ve ruined me.
