I am anxious, She is cautious.

At night the ticking of the clock gets louder,

My anxiety sounds like thunder;

In the darkness I begin to shudder.

 

The cold kissing my skin feels shocking,

Making love to pain like I'm the Earth and it's lightening;

The thought of failure is a nightmare found frightening.

 

She takes me by the hand and names me lovely,

Tells me to treat myself kindly,

And I tell her I can't quite politely.

 

Her love is a dance; it calls me beautiful;

My self esteem is a knife; it calls me pitiful;

She tells me I've only been dutiful.

 

She is such a soft light,

But try as I might,

I can no longer fight.

 

I come home bloodied and bruised;

She takes me in her arms, confused;

I tell her I have been abused,

 

By restless thoughts, flowers planted in my mind by society;

She doesnt blame me for tear soaking my pillow quietly;

She just smiles and says she'll care for me happily.

 

I thank her as the dark visons dance in front of my eyes,

And as she holds me she gently cries;

This love (somewhere between good and bad) was written in the skies.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741