you and i could be in lovei hold hands with my anxietyas we stand on the train stationplatform. i long to bear witnessto the day when its touch burnslike fire, but that day is not today.i ride the train with my anxietyon my way to work. it hangs aboutthrough the day, pulling my hair,grinding my teeth. we ride home,hand in hand, heart ablaze.tonight, my anxiety takes advantageof me. it lays its hands on mein ways i have never been touched.and though i do not desire thesefeelings, they wash over me in wavesof wanting.my family asks where my rash came from,why i have sleepless eyes. my familyasks why i throw up at night. i wantto tell them that it's getting worse -the nights are longer, and my anxiety'shands hit harder.but i can't.i hold hands with my anxietyas we stand on the train stationplatform. it rears its ugly, yellowedface, as it knows i'm contemplatingjumping in front of the train.
sleeplessnesswhen i leave, i can still smell you onme, a musky, oceanic scent thatclings to me in this hurricaneand while i am homeless until ireturn to your arms, there's alwaysa period of anxiety, a pacing (if you will)i want you to mourn for me theway my father does, but you'venever loved someone with my kind of hurti want you to spend dreamlessnights the way i do, with ringsbeneath my eyes, wonderinghow love could ever lastbut i have come to know theemanation of despair as it barksat me like a dog that's seen another of its kind -and i miss you the way i miss myself -sometimes, or not at all.