Anxiety comes to me in shortness of breath, as I find myself gasping for air [that is polluted with lost dreams and hopes.]
He comes to me with a sudden rapid beating in my chest, and for a moment I lose myself [as I feel the walls caving in on my heart, squeezing it for every last bit of light it has left.]
He, the lover that has been with me for so long.
He, who has gazed into my tired eyes and [selfishly] said “I will always be there.”
He, who has caused my fingers to shake.
He, who has taught me the meaning of peace [only in his absence.]
He turns my excited butterflies into blind bats slamming against walls because they need to escape.
And I invite him back every time because I can’t let go. I’m anxious without my lover, Anxiety. Who am I without him?
He who comes to me when I’m at my loneliest, but at least he comes to me.
By: Banafshé Eshragi
